
Class _IB_EJ^ 

Book ■/n4 -£r 

CopiglitN?- 



COFOUGUT DEPOSIE 



AN INTRODUCTION TO 
PSYCHOLOGY 



BY 

JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL 

Head of the Department of Psychology in the University 
of Chicago 




NEW YORK 
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1918 



1\ 






COFTRIOHT, 1918, 
BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 



©OU5UJ802 






THE QUINN & BOOEN CO. PRESS 
RAHWA.Y, N. J. 



PREFACE 

Shortly after the appearance of my Psychology in 
L 1904 ^ I began to receive requests from teachers to pre- 
'^, pare a briefer volume on the same general lines. This I 
"p finally agreed to do, but fulfilment has lagged so far be- 
\j3 hind promise, that despite the continued popularity of 
the older work, it seems no longer appropriate to attempt 
a mere digest of it. The present book accordingly rep- 
resents an entirely fresh survey of the field, and attempts 
to set forth simply and concisely the more important prin- 
ciples of general psychology. Some comment upon the 
relation of the two books to one another may be of interest. 
The prompt welcome accorded the earlier work was 
presumably due to the novelty of certain of its features, 
which have since been adopted in greater or less degree by 
other authors. It emphasized for the first time, so far as 
I am aware, the distinction between structural and func- 
tional methods in psychology. It adopted and consistently 
utilized an essentially biological point of view in its in- 
terpretation of mental life, this position being reflected in 
part in the arrangement of the topics to exhibit the pro- 
gressive stages of adjustment. It presented, provisionally 
to be sure, a definite and teachable system, which gave 
students who mastered it a sense of control over the ma- 
terial, enabled them to observe and think psychologically 
for themselves and — not least important — afforded them a 
terminology and a point of view which rendered the litera- 

^ Fourth edition, 1908. 

iii 



iv PREFACE 

ture of the subject easily accessible. Such changes as 
appear in the present text simply reflect alterations of 
emphasis and points of view which the development of the 
science has rendered necessary. 

The structure-function distinction still seems to me 
significant. But it is no longer a matter of acute con- 
troversy and so requires a less militant treatment. Polemic 
is now centered about the ' behavioristic ' movement, 
which, with its gospel of objective methods and its crusade 
against introspection, presents an interesting blend of solid 
contribution and adolescent exaggeration. Whatever seems 
to me to be sound in its position, I have adopted. It lends 
itself readily to incorporation into the biological concep- 
tion of mental activity, which I have retained and ener- 
getically pressed. 

The organizing character of every level of our psycho- 
motor activities is more explicitly brought out than in the 
older book, with advantage, I trust, to the depth and vivid- 
ness of impression left on the reader's mind regarding 
"the real nature of our adjustments to environment. 

I have come in recent years to assign more importance 
than I formerly did to the function of subconscious proc- 
esses in our behavior. I do not for a moment accept the 
prurient implications of much of the Freudian doctrine, 
nor have I been greatly influenced by any of its conten- 
tions; but on other grounds I have come to the belief 
that there is a large element of intrinsically intelligent 
control in many neural processes which escape our direct 
conscious observation. This I hold to be as true of re- 
flective thought as of the more overt control of our muscles. 
The text will be found to reflect something of this con- 
viction. 



PREFACE V 

My views on the function of imagery have been a good 
deal misunderstood. This is hardly the place in which 
to confront my critics, but I trust that the present text 
may be found less open to misapprehension. With the 
recently developed doctrine of 'imageless thought' I am 
warmly sympathetic so far as it has served to direct atten- 
tion to the meaning aspect of our mental operations, in 
distinction from their mere sensuous texture. Much of 
its pretense to novelty I think is based on the miscon- 
struction of earlier doctrine. Its postulate of the existence 
of states of consciousness wholly devoid of sensorial or 
imaginal factors I regard as altogether unsubstantiated. 

After extended conferences with teachers I have decided 
to omit any practical exercises. In the first place I find 
that many instructors prefer to prepare their own; and 
in the second place there are now a number of admirable 
manuals written to supply this precise need. I consider 
such exercises an essentially indispensable part of a well- 
rounded introductory course, but they need not be made 
dependent on the teachings of any particular text. 

For the use of a number of illustrations acknowledgments 
are due to the following authors and publishers : D. Apple- 
ton & Co., publishers of Barker's ''The Nervous System"; 
Ginn & Co., publishers of ''The Elements of Physiology" 
by T. Hough and W. T. Sedgwick ; John Murray, publisher 
of "The Physiology of the Sense Organs" by McKendrick 
and Snodgrass; G. P. Putnam's Sons, publishers of Loeb's 
"Physiology of the Brain"; W. B. Saunders & Co., pub- 
lishers of Howell's "Text-Book of Physiology"; and Wal- 
ter Scott, Ltd., publishers of Donaldson's "Growth of the 
Brain." 



vi PREFACE 

I am under many obligations to my former students 
and to my colleagues at the University of Chicago for 
suggestions and criticism. My wife has aided me greatly 
in the preparation of my manuscript. 

J. R. A. 

Chicago, 
May 1, 1918. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I Problems and Methods of Psychology . 1 

II Inherited and Acquired Behavior . . 10 

III The Nervous System 18 

IV Consciousness and Habit Formation . . 49 
V Attention 58 

VI Sensation 76 

VII Sense Perception 114 

VIII Memory 137 

IX Imagination 152 

X Reasoning 170 

XI Feeling 189 

^ XII Emotion 204 

XIII Instinct 215 

XIV Elements* OP Voluntary Action . . . 226 

XV Will, Instinct, and Character . . . 237 

XVI Sleep, Dreams, Hypnosis, and Multiple 

Personality 249 

XVII The Self 263 

Bibliography 273 

Index 279 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTER I 
PROBLEMS AND METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY 

The Subject Matter of Psychology. — Old and well 
established sciences generally feel it unnecessary to define 
themselves for the benefit of the beginner. Young sciences, 
on the other hand, commonly seek to make cl^ar the field 
which they propose to occupy. To the beginner, any 
definition of a science must be somewhat vague and formal, 
because he cannot intelligently interpret its real meaning 
in advance of a knowledge of the facts with which the 
science deals. We shall therefore make no serious effort 
at this point to construct a precise definition of psychology, 
which is the" youngest of the biological sciences. It is, 
however, possible to give rough indications of a helpful 
kind regarding the general character of the problems to 
be confronted. 

The older definitions of psychology spoke of it as 'the 
science of the soul,' and this designation was long em- 
ployed and only abandoned at last because of the many 
confusing implications of the word soul. Then followed 
a period when psychology was described as 'the science of 
mind.' In its turn the word mind in this definition was 
abandoned in favor of the term 'consciousness.' In each 
case a more general and less compromising term was sub- 
stituted for one about which there had gathered a group 

1 



2 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

of irrelevant or misleading associations. Consciousness 
itself has now fallen victim to the same movement, and in 
its place we are urged to use such terms as 'behavior/ 
'conduct,' or 'intelligence.' 

At this juncture it is far less important to secure a 
verbally precise and accurate definition than it is to gain 
a fruitful working idea of the general range of facts with 
which psychology deals, and the technique by which it 
gathers, organizes, and interprets these facts. Broadly 
speaking, then, the psychologist's subject matter concer^ns 
thinking, feeling, and acting. When psychology is defined, 
as often occurs today, as the science of heJiavior, it is to 
be understood that the term behavior includes these three 
processes.^ We shall try in this book to point out what 
are the materials of which intelligence is composed, what 
the conditions under which it arises, what the purposes for 
which it is employed, and what the manner in which con- 
duct is controlled. The attempt to unravel all the strands 
which are twisted together in this skein of life will take 
us into the study of many facts seemingly remote from 
those which we thus set out to explore. 

Physiological and Social Conditions of Human Ex- 
perience. — In the first place, all life is built upon physical 
and physiological foundations. It is quite impossible to 
understand human nature, even in a common-sense way, 
without a knowledge of the bodily structure of the human 
being. Much less can one pretend to scientific knowledge 
without recourse to physiological materials. We shall 
therefore find it frequently necessary to employ informa- 

* A few advocates of ' objective psychology ' or ' pure behavior- 
ism ' would wholly disregard thinking and feeling, devoting their 
entire attention to a study of motor activity. 



PROBLEMS AND METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY 3 

tion about the body, and particularly about the brain and 
nervous system. 

Again, all life to some extent, and especially human 
life, is lived among social surroundings. It is idle to at- 
tempt to understand human behavior without constant 
regard to these social relations. Our modern science has 
taught us to see all contemporary conditions in the light 
of their evolution from the past. These social conditions 
quite as truly as those of a physiological kind are today 
interpreted from the point of view of development and 
adjustment. Life has always been a process of adapting 
the organism to the physical conditions of climate and 
food supply on the one hand, and to social organization 
on the other. The conduct of man today reflects the race- 
long history of struggle and adjustment in each of these 
directions, and to understand any piece of behavior in- 
volves taking into account to some extent influences which 
point backward to this illimitable racial past. 

Methods of Gathering Facts in Psychology. — There is 
in progress at present a very vigorous controversy as to 
the correct method in psychology. The traditional one 
upon which all the early accomplishments of psychology 
rest is known as introspection. It consists in the direct 
systematic process of self-observation. I ask myself to 
recall what I was doing yesterday at this hour, and imme- 
diately after bringing into mind the events in question, I 
try to discern and describe the particular manner in which 
the occurrences are portrayed in my thought. I may, for 
example, in my 'mind's eye' see myself walking to my 
office. Evidently such a method is at the disposal of 
anyone who chooses to employ it. It is purely observa- 
tional, differing from the usual forms of external observa- 



4 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tion in having one's own internal mental operations as its 
object, rather than the facts and events of the outside 
world. 

A good deal of mystery has at times been attached to 
this introspective process, and unmeasured criticism has 
been directed at it, ranging all the way from a denial of 
its possibility on the ground that a mental state cannot 
observe itself while it is going on, down to the less sweep- 
ing but more pertinent criticism, that the method is prone 
to many forms of error which are extremely difficult to 
control. The merits of this controversy can hardly be 
entered upon here. Suffice it to say that direct observation 
of the kind described, i.e., of mental experiences just past, 
is a commonplace of everyday life, and that, carried out 
carefully and systematically by many individuals, it has 
resulted in the accumulation of a very respectable body 
of knowledge entirely worthy of the term scientific. 

Over against introspection or subjective observation, is 
the general method of objective observation, which is 
essentially that employed in all the physical sciences. The 
defenders of the latter urge that it is the only really 
scientific method, because it is the only one affording 
unequivocal opportunity for verification of alleged facts 
and events by more than one observer. Needless to say, 
chemistry, physics, geology, and the biological sciences in 
general are based entirely upon this method. As applied to 
psychology, it necessarily involves the attempt to use the 
external bodily expressions (e.g., gestures, words, facial 
movements, etc.) as a basis for the understanding of be- 
havior, and its advocates maintain that one can accurately 
describe and measure the significant facts of mental 
activity just in the degree in whi^h one can determine its 



PROBLEMS AND METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY 5 

external manifestations. All else, they say, is elusive, and 
purely subjective and incapable of scientific treatment. 

The fact that mental states do ultimately secure expres- 
sion in conduct need not be questioned; nor is anyone 
likely to doubt that many states of mind, such for example 
as anger or embarrassment, may be reflected immediately 
and unequivocally in facial expression. But there is also 
no reason to call in question the fact that at present, at 
least, our ability to detect accurately the external expres- 
sions of the great majority of our mental states lags 
far behind our ability introspectively to describe and 
analyze them. Who can say from observing my external 
appearance whether I am thinking about Napoleon or 
Julius Caesar? It seems, therefore, to be the part of 
common sense to avoid the extremism of the partisans in 
this controversy. Let us recognize that wherever possible, 
it is highly desirable to make use of the bodily expressions 
of mental states, because of their tangible objective char- 
acter; but wherever this is impossible, as is at present 
the case in many regions of mental life, let us rely upon 
trained scientific introspection. 

Scientific Organization of Data. — It should be clearly 
understood that both of these methods to which reference 
has just been made have to do with the gathering of data, 
the collecting of the facts of intelligent behavior. This 
process is the first step in any science, but it is only the 
first. There then remains the task of analyzing and organ- 
izing the facts, of classifying them in ways which will 
exhibit their relations to one another and make them in- 
telligible in their entirety. Moreover, wherever this is 
practicable, a modern science, in addition to trying thus to 
analyze and describe, attempts to explain. Analysis, or- 



6 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

ganization, explanation, the ability to predict events be- 
cause of the knowledge of the relations of cause and effect 
in a given group of phenomena — these are the character- 
istics of every established natural science. 

Experiment in Psychology. — Quite the most important 
modern advance in psychology is to be connected with the 
development, in the middle of the last century, of the ex- 
perimental movement. Progress in the other natural 
sciences has been rapid directly in proportion to their 
development of experimental technique. An experiment 
is an observation made under conditions of control. It 
gains its crucial importance from the fact that it permits 
an exact repetition of conditions, and thus makes possible 
verification by many observers of whatever facts are re- 
ported. It had always been supposed that mind w^as ex- 
cluded from experimental attack because the necessary 
control could not be secured. Thanks largely to the work 
of Weber, Fechner, and Wundt, the possibility of psycho- 
logical experiment has been forever put beyond the pale 
of doubt. While some mental processes are more resistant 
than others to experimental approach, there is hardly any 
significant group of mental operations which has been 
found entirely obdurate. By far the greater portion of our 
mental life has been already to some extent explored by 
experimental methods. 

Experiment has shown itself fruitful both in the range 
of introspection and in that of objective observation. In 
the one case, the experimental situation is so devised as to 
assist introspective analysis, and to permit the reinstate- 
ment time after time of substantially the same mental 
conditions. After-images of color may thus be studied 
by repeating the stimulus again and again. In the case 



PROBLEMS AND METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY 7 

of direct observation, the experiment is designed to elicit 
modes of behavior which can be observed and recorded by 
the experimenter. The promptness of a movement made 
in response to a sound, for example, can thus be determined 
by time-measuring apparatus. Although both types of 
observation are thus involved in experimental procedure, 
it is probably fair to say that the objective type is tend- 
ing on the whole to displace the other. 

The Different Fields of Psychology. — In the present 
text we shall be chiefly concerned with the facts involved 
in ordinary human behavior. This field is commonly 
designated general psychology. It has to do with the 
typical forms of behavior characterizing the normal adult. 
There are, however, other important divisions of psychol- 
ogy which we shall invade from time to time in order to 
secure useful material. The mental life of children has 
been rather extensively studied, and constitutes a reason- 
ably distinct branch of investigation, sometimes called 
child psychology, sometimes genetic psychology. Similarly 
the study of mental abnormalities constitutes another sub- 
division generally spoken of as abnormal psychology. 
Despite the fact that all mental life of human beings is 
lived amid social surroundings, and that it is quite im- 
possible to understand human behavior without regard to 
influences which arise from these relations, it has been 
found profitable to create a special division known as 
social psychology. In this field attention is particularly 
directed to a study of the explicitly social instincts and 
attributes of the mind, and to an analysis of the mental fac- 
tors in social organizations and institutions. Eace psy- 
chology is an older division of the subject, devoted to the 
attempt to ascertain and describe those peculiarities of 



8 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

temperament and behavior which ostensibly characterize 
different races. Variational psychology, or individual 
psychology, concerns itself with the study of those personal 
idiosyncrasies of temperament, taste, intellectual capacity, 
etc., which mark off one human being from another. Much 
of the most interesting and significant addition to our 
psychological knowledge has in recent years come from 
the study of animal behavior. To this field is generally 
applied the term animal psychology, or sometimes the 
term comparative psychology. 

There is a branch of psychology known as physiological 
psychology which has historically grown up side by side 
with experiment, and made incessant use of experimental 
procedure. Strictly speaking, it ought perhaps to be re- 
garded as a special psychological field. It is often spoken 
of as though it w^ere a definite method. However it may 
be classified, it consists as a matter of fact simply in the 
attempt systematically to study mental life in connection 
with bodily processes, particularly those of the brain and 
nervous system. We shall have frequent occasion to make 
use of its materials. 

Psychophysics is a name applied to a branch of psy- 
chology developed by the German scientist, Fechner. It 
has led to the development of quantitative psychology, 
which is concerned with the attempt to measure mental 
processes. We shall have relatively little to do with this 
division of psychological inquiry. 

Psychology and Other Sciences. — In advance of any 
detailed knowledge of psychology, it is hardly profitable 
to dwell upon its relations to other natural sciences. Suf- 
fice it to say that like them, it has historically developed 
out of philosophy, with which it still retains rather more 



PROBLEMS AND METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY 9 

intimate relations than do those sciences, e.g., physics and 
chemistry, which separated themselves from the parent 
(philosophical) stem at an earlier time. As a science 
psychology may fairly claim a place in the biological 
group, because its subject matter is life in certain of its 
expressions. The intimacy of the relationship is in a 
measure attested by the extent to which psychology con- 
ceives of its problems in evolutionary terms and in terms 
of the adjustment of the organism to physical and social 
environment. 

Like other sciences, psychology has both a pure and an 
applied aspect. In its applications, it stands closely re- 
lated to education, to medicine, to jurisprudence, and to 
many of the professional and practical interests of life. 
These applications are still in their early infancy, and, 
although extremely interesting and valuable, must pre- 
sumably wait for any approach to completeness upon a 
far higher development of the pure science. It is fair to 
add that they are themselves making genuine and im- 
portant contributions to this pure science. 



CHAPTER II 
INHERITED AND ACQUIRED BEHAVIOR 

It will perhaps assist us if, before proceeding to a 
detailed study of behavior, we pass rapidly in review some 
of its chief forms. This will give us a rough working idea 
of the path which we are to follow in our more exact 
analysis. 

Classification of the Forms of Behavior. — For prac- 
tical purposes we classify behavior in many different ways. 
We speak of it as good or bad, as kind or cruel, as thought- 
ful, stupid, or clever. Evidently such divisions are de- 
signed to mark certain moral or intellectual qualities which 
we think of as attaching to it. Again, we may classify 
from the point of view of the special kind of action in- 
volved, e.g., work or play. Walking, speaking, writing, 
skating, golfing, playing the piano, are all modes of be- 
havior which might be thus distinguished. 

For our present purposes the most useful classification 
and the one which we should keep constantly in view, 
will be that which distinguishes innate, inherited, and ^7^- 
stinctive forms of behavior from those which are acquired, 
and we may profitably proceed to a brief description of 
these two types. 

Instinctive forms of action are such as the nest-building 
activities of birds and insects, the seasonal migrations of 
fishes, birds, and certain mammals, the homing habits of 
pigeons and certain marine birds. All these forms of 

10 



INHERITED AND ACQUIRED BEHAVIOR 11 

behavior have in common this native inborn character and 
their fitness to achieve certain ends necessary to the preser- 
vation of the animal or the species. However much an 
animal may be influenced by the example set by others 
of its kind, it is quite capable of executing these instinctive 
acts wholly without tuition. In this sense they are entirely 
native, and not learned. 

Although popular conception does not always recognize 
this fact, it is nevertheless true that man himself possesses 
many of these innate forms of behavior. The trembling of 
the limbs, the blanching of the face, the dryness of the 
mouth, the nausea and faintness of terror, are instinctive 
modes of behavior, natural to every child and carried out 
quite without regard to either precept or example. Simi- 
larly the clenching of the fist in anger, the flushing of the 
skin in embarrassment, the shedding of tears in sorrow or 
in rage, are all indigenous modes of behavior, inborn in 
every human being. These activities, like those cited from 
animal behavior, are all designed to secure some end essen- 
tial to the welfare of the individual or the race. 

Some of the expressions of this character called reflex 
acts are very simple and are called forth by relatively 
simple situations. For example, the contraction of the 
iris in the presence of strong light is a relatively simple 
muscular movement made in response to the single stim- 
ulus, light. The act of coughing is similarly a rather 
simple muscular response to irritation in the throat. Evi- 
dently the incentive to the instinctive response in em- 
barrassment is somewhat more complex. It involves the 
apprehension of an entire situation, instead of the mere 
sensing of a single stimulation like light or irritation of 
the membranes of the throat. There is a very large group- 



12 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

of these innate forms of behavior of which ordinarily we 
are wholly unconscious. All the great life-sustaining 
bodily operations are of this character. The beating of 
the heart goes on for the most part entirely without 
attracting our notice. The normal processes of digestion 
are similarly unconscious. Even our breathing rarely in- 
trudes itself upon attention. 

It is clear, then, upon the most cursory observation, that 
the human being comes into the world already provided 
with an amazing number of muscular capacities at his 
disposal. The maintenance of life is from the very first 
dependent upon the proper operation of these inherited 
activities. As we shall later see, these instinctive traits 
constitute the foundation upon which are erected all the 
acquired modes of behavior which we shall presently study. 

Acquired Behavior. — As was suggested in the last sen- 
tence, the acquired forms of behavior rest upon the in- 
stinctive types, but they nevertheless represent quite a 
different order of affairs. Nobody is born with the ability 
forthwith to play the violin or to use the typewriter. Both 
achievements require long practice and painstaking effort. 
Speech and walking both have an instinctive basis, to be 
sure, but both require an extended period of learning be- 
fore they are at all perfect or complete. Practically all 
our dexterities and acts of skill are of this character. The 
putting on and off of our clothing, the manipulation of 
the common utensils of daily life, our social deportment — 
expressive of the conventional etiquette of our own time, 
civilization, and set — our enunciation, our professional 
habits, even in large measure our moral and religious prac- 
tices and beliefs, are of this acquired character. 

As we shall discover at a later point with more detail, 



INHERITED AND ACQUIRED BEHAVIOR 13 

these acquired acts have all become established as the 
result of processes in which the mind has played a de- 
cidedly conspicuous part. In this regard they are essen- 
tially different from the instinctive modes of behavior. 
Of these latter we may indeed be aware, but they do not 
owe their peculiar form to any thought which we have 
accorded them. As they were born in us, so they appear. 
Obviously the execution of the elaborate conventional 
social forms peculiar to every civilization involves careful 
tutelage and a distinct conscious effort of acquirement. 
The gestures proper to the greeting of a lady by a gentle- 
man in Western Europe are not to be learned without 
studious effort. Similarly the behavior appropriate to 
the participant in a ritualistic service involves a pro- 
longed apprenticeship before it can be successfully 
mastered. 

Acquired Acts Become Automatic. — All these illustra- 
tions suggest what is a fundamental truth later to be more 
fully explored, i.e., that many acts which require in their 
early stages alert conscious supervision, become after a 
time essentially automatic and take care of themselves; 
that is to say, they tend to simulate the instinctive and 
innate forms of behavior. As a child, it requires a long 
and tedious course of training to master the niceties of 
table etiquette. But once this is thoroughly learned, it 
practically cares for itself; and the same thing is true of 
all the other acquired types of behavior. It is surprising 
to find how large a part of the behavior of one's working 
day is of this automatized, habitual kind, and how little 
of it involves immediate, thoughtful supervision. This is 
but another way of saying that we are creatures of routine. 
It involves, however, explicit emphasis upon the fact often 



14 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

unappreciated, to-wit, that well-established routine de- 
mands very little active mental control. 

Instinctive Behavior in Animals. — As we have already 
intimated, the modern evolutionary conception teaches that 
those types of reaction which are effective in maintaining 
the life of the species inevitably tend to become fixed and 
to be perpetuated. Nature, it is said, cares nothing for the 
individual, but everything for the species, and while this 
is no doubt an overstatement of the truth, there are in- 
stances, particularly in insect forms, where the individual 
sacrifices its life in the act which creates the new genera- 
tion. It is certainly true, however, that no mode of be- 
havior can hope for survival which stands opposed to the 
successful maintenance of the species. The great body, 
then, of instinctive forms of behavior represents types of 
reaction which have been found useful in the past for the 
preservation of the species. Many of these, in the nature 
of the case, must make for the safeguarding of the in- 
dividual as well. But as we pass upward in our survey of 
the animal forms from the lower to the higher, we find 
increasing opportunities for individualistic types of adjust- 
ment, and it is in this region of adaptive behavior that 
we encounter the group of actions which we have called 
acquired. They, too, are broadly preservative in character, 
but they represent the region of unstable and incomplete 
adjustment. The individual tries out for himself a new 
line of action, which may prove a success or a failure. 

The simplest type of the known animals is represented 
by amoeba. The amoeba is an almost structureless speck 
of jelly-like protoplasm. Under the microscope it can be 
seen to consist of a nucleus surrounded by fluid protoplasm. 
This little organism secures its food by gradually envelop- 



INHERITED AND ACQUIRED BEHAVIOR 15 

ing it with its liquid surfaces. If it be attacked by strong 
acids, or similar stimuli, the protoplasm tends to flow 
away from the source of attack. Its reactions are there- 
fore confined to these simple activities of approach and 
retreat, with the assimilation of food and the rejection of 
waste products, all functions of this one simple cell-like 
structure. Evidently the scope of adjustive activities for 
such a creature is extremely limited. 

Passing to a much higher order of animal life, such as 
is represented by the fishes, we find again that the main 
forms of adaptive behavior have to do (1) with the securing 
of food; (2) with the escape from harmful objects, in- 
cluding both animal enemies and unfavorable physical 
surroundings, e.g., water which is too cold, too salt, etc.; 
and (3) with the propagation of the species. In the 
amoeba, this latter function is brought about by a mere 
division of the parent cell. In addition to the commoner 
modes of instinctive expression in connection with the 
functions which we have listed, fishes, and particularly 
birds, display the most amazing migratory adjustments, 
designed to afford them favorable surroundings for the 
several stages of their life cycle. Practically all our com- 
mon birds migrate annually over considerable ranges of 
territory, and some of them journey from the northern 
end of North America to the extreme southern end of 
South America. 

To adjusting activities of the kinds described, the more 
intelligent mammals (to say nothing of the fishes and 
birds) add many types of gregarious instincts, which 
often safeguard the members of the group from their 
common enemies. In some cases this community action 
has an aggressive rather than a merely protective char- 



16 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

acter. Wolves, for example, hunt in packs, as do some 
other forms of wild animals. Buffalo, deer, and domestic 
cattle live by preference in herds whose numbers to some 
extent protect them from the assaults of their enemies. 
In such group association they benefit by the leadership 
of the stronger and more intelligent members of the herd. 

Modification of Instinct in Man. — There is perhaps no 
single one of these protective forms of animal behavior 
which does not find a substantial counterpart in the be- 
havior of man. But in almost every case a form of be- 
havior, which in the animals is primarily instinctive, is in 
man modified through various kinds of acquired adjust- 
ments and often perfected to a degree quite surpassing 
the animal form. Against the rigors of the winter the 
bear retires to his den in a cave, the squirrel to his nest 
in the tree, but man builds for himself the most elaborate 
of artificial shelters. Where the bird migrates from one 
end of the continent to the other in search of equable 
climate, man so devises his house that it may be cool in 
summer and warm in winter. In other words, he arti- 
ficially creates his own preferred climate. The animal in 
his search for a livelihood may be carried by conditions of 
climate over many degrees of latitude. Man, by his control 
over agriculture and husbandry, assures himself adequate 
food at his very door the year around. 

More striking still than his mastery of those forms of 
adjustment which relate to climate, food supply, and the 
general characteristics of physical nature, is the extent 
to which his instincts have been evolved to meet social 
conditions, and the skiU with which of his own intelli- 
gence he has learned to adapt himself to the demands of 
social circumstance. If one disregard the appetites of 



INHERITED AND ACQUIRED BEHAVIOR 17 

hunger and thirst and the instincts connected with their 
satisfaction, one may say that practically all the remaining 
human instincts are either dominantly or exclusively social 
in their import. Anger, hate, fear, love, sorrow, sympathy 
— the list may be drawn out almost indefinitely — all point 
to social forms of adjustment. Arising primarily out of 
the great group of instinctive impulses, but with modifica- 
tions introduced at various points by reflective intelligence, 
man has evolved those great social institutions which we 
designate religion, law, custom, government and the state, 
the family and the church. Even commerce and industry, 
and agriculture in all its forms, represent concretely the 
modes in which man has developed his processes of adjust- 
ment to nature and to his fellow-man. 

These illustrations may serve to suggest how wide is the 
range in animal and human life over which is distributed 
the process of adjustment, and how manifold are the forms 
with which it clothes itself. It remains only to point out 
that while much of this adaptive process is carried out by 
instinctive and often unconscious inherited activities, a 
large part of it is the result of the play of thought and 
feeling flowing out into acts of will, constituting in their 
entirety what we commonly call the life of mind. Our 
study in this book will be devoted to both these factors in 
behavior, i.e., instinctive and acquired characteristics, but 
more particularly to the last named portion of them. 



CHAPTER III 
THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 

In the preceding chapter, attention was directed to cer- 
tain of the broad typical forms of organic adjustment ta 
environment. In the animal kingdom as a whole probably 
the great majority of these acts are reflex in character and 
involve little or no direct mental supervision. In man, 
however, the types of adjustment which are of most sig- 
nificance are those which involve the definite use of the 
mind. Human interest is naturally centered in the things 
which we choose to do, or not to do ; the things which pro- 
voke our strong feeling, <which challenge our courage or 
intelligence, which stimulate our ingenuity and test our 
perseverance. 

To even a superficial survey of the situation it must 
be evident that the mind comes into possession of its 
knowledge through the use of the hodily senses, and that 
in turn it makes itself effective through its control of the 
hodily muscles. Without the body the mind, as we know 
it, would obviously be rather helpless. Modern psychology 
has therefore been disposed to learn all it could regarding 
those portions of our physical structure which are impor- 
tant for our mental life. Pursuant to this tendency we 
shall now undertake to gain a rough working conception 
of the nervous system, which more than any other part of 
our bodily frame is responsible for the peculiarities of 
mental behavior. We shall make no pretense of entering 

18 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 19 

in any detailed way upon the anatomy or physiology of 
the nervous system. We shall, however, attempt to secure 
impressions, which, so far as they go, will be accurate and 
of a kind to render us constant assistance in the course of 
our study. 




Fig. 1. — Diagram of an amoeba greatly magnified. The irregularly 
shaped mass of protoplasm is shown with N, its nucleus, and 
CV, a contractile vacuole, which expands and contracts. 

The biologists tell us that the earliest forms of life were 
marine plants and animals, presumably of the simplest 
possible structure, like the amoeba (Fig. 1) to which refer- 
ence was made in a previous chapter. In animals of this 
type, every part of the body appears to be sensitive to 
stimulation. Every part appears capable of moving. 
There is no definite specialization of function. But as we 
pass to higher forms, we early meet with the beginnings of 
that process which in the higher animals has resulted in the 
differentiation of functions among tissues. To some are 
assigned digestive functions, to others respiratory func- 
tions, while to the nerves falls the function of transmitting 
excitement from one part of the organism to another. 
These last mentioned tissues have appropriated to them- 
selves the functions of control which accounts for their 
special claim upon our attention. Figures 2 and 3 exhibit 
simple forms of nervous systems. 

Main Subdivisions of the Nervous System. — There are 



20 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



two great subdivisions of the nerves which share between 
them the important duties to be performed. One, the so- 
called 'central' system cares for the adjustment of the 




Fig. 2. — ^Nervous system of a starfish; a, central nerve ring that 
surrounds the mouth; h, peripheral nerves of the arms. (After 
Loeb.) 




Fig. 3. — Dorsal view of the central system of an earthworm; o, 
supraoesophageal ganglion; c, commissure-; u, suboesophageal 
ganglion; S, pharynx; O, ganglion of the ventral cord. (After 
Loeb.) 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 21 

organism to the outside physical world. The other, the 
'autonomic' system, more often known as the sympathetic 
system, provides for the proper functioning of the bodily 
organs themselves. The central system connected through 
one set of terminals with the various sense organs such 
as the eyes and the ears, and through a second set with 
the muscles, enables the organism to move about success- 
fully in search of food and shelter and in avoidance of 
danger. Meantime, the autonomic system keeps the diges- 
tion, respiration, and circulation in order, oversees many 
of the reflexes and more particularly the processes of 
assimilation and excretion, and in general assures condi- 
tions of physical life and health. The central system may 
be thought of as the provider, the autonomic system as the 
housekeeper. Of course their functions somewhat overlap, 
for the two are intimately connected, and neither one could 
get on without the other. Mental life is in some ways 
more immediately connected with the activity of the cen- 
tral system, as we shall presently see, but it is also related 
to the autonomic system in many important particulars. 

Although the differences in these two great divisions of 
the nervous system are sufficient to make it wise to consider 
them separately, both are made up of elementary struc- 
tures known as neurones which we must briefly describe. 

The Neurone, the Element of the Nervous System. — 
The fully developed neurone or nerve resembles roughly a 
very slender thread with a knot near one end of it, the 
end beyond the knot being frequently frayed out into a 
number of brush-like endings. (See Fig. 4.) The part^ 
of the nerve corresponding to the knot is the so-called 
cell body, which corresponds roughly to the seed out of 
which a plant develops. It is the vital center of the nerve. 



22 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

and if it be destroyed, the remainder of the nerve will 
die. Like the plant seed, which gives off certain fibers 
that develop into the root and others which become the 




Fig. 4. 
A, B, C, D represent successive stages in the development of a young 
neurone. E represents a fully developed pyramidal cell from 
the cortex of the cerebrum, showing the granular and nuclear 
character of the cell body. D and E both show the differ- 
ences in the appearance of axones, aoc, and dendrites, d, and P 
exhibits the typical structure of a fully developed nerve fiber 
of the periphery, ac, the axis cylinder, or true nerve, of the 
axone; m, the thick pulpy medullary sheath; p, the thin mem- 
branous primitive sheath, both the sheaths protective and prob- 
ably nutritive; G, shows a cross-section of such a nerve trunk. 
H exhibits segments of the unmedullated fibers of the sym- 
pathetic system. (Modified from Cajal and Toldt.) 



stalk, the cell body of the nerve "Qsnally gives off two 
forms of minute filaments. These possess as a rule certain 
differences in appearance shown in Fig. 4D, E. The nerves 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 23 

vary enormously in their dimensions. Some of them may 
be two or more feet in length. Such are the fibers which 
extend from the base of the spinal cord into the sole of 
the foot. Others (examples occur in the brain) are only 
a fraction of a millimeter in length, and a cross-section of 
any of them short or long would ordinarily require a 
microscope to be clearly seen. The nerves which are 
sometimes exposed to view as the result of an injury or 
an operation are in reality great bundles of these little 
fibrils, brought together like the wires of a telephone 
circuit in a cable, such as one may often see upon our 
streets. 

Classification of the Nerves. — For our purposes the 
nerves may conveniently be divided into three great 
groups: (1) those which carry impulses in toward the 
central system. These are called sensory nerves or re- 
ceptors, because they receive sensory stimulations. (2) 
The nerves which carry impulses from the central system 
out to the muscles or glands. These may be called 
effectors, because they produce specific effects of adjust- 
ment. Effectors entering muscles are frequently desig- 
nated motor nerves. (3) Those which connect the first 
group with the second. These may be called central ad- 
justors, or connectors. Although the forms of the nerves 
differ somewhat when seen under the microscope, accord- 
ing to the particular portion of the nervous system from 
which they come, they are alike in the fact that, so far 
as is known in the higher organisms at least, normal 
nervous impulses always flow over them in one and only 
one direction. This means that a neurone which cus- 
tomarily conveys impulses from a sense organ to the 
brain or cord can never conduct an impulse backward from 



24 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

the cord or brain to the sense organ. Similarly the effector, 
which carries impulses out toward the muscles, can never 
convey an impulse back from the muscle to the center. 
We may express the situation in magnetic terms by saying 
that the nervous system is polarized. Its currents flow 
only in one direction. 

Each sensory receptor terminates at the surface of the 
body in contact with some kind of specialized tissue so 
organized as to be sensitive to a particular form of physical 
or chemical stimulus. Thus the optic fibers terminate in 
contact with the rods and cones of the retina, of which we 
shall learn more in a later chapter. These microscopic 
structures are sensitive to light. When they are stimulated, 
changes occur in them (probably of electro-chemical char- 
acter) that set up impulses in the nerve fibers, which then 
transmit the nervous excitation to the brain. The auditory 
nerves terminate similarly in the internal ear, about the 
bases of minute structures known as hair cells, which are 
thrown into vibration when sounds fall upon the ear. 
Again, the nerves distributed to the skin come to an end 
in contact with minute structures in the dermis, which 
are sensitive to contact, or to heat, or to cold. One form 
of cutaneous nerve, i.e., the so-called '^pain nerve" has not 
thus far been found to have any special terminal organ. 
But this is an exception to which we shall return in 
another chapter. 

The effectors or motor nerves leading out from the cen- 
tral system terminate in the surfaces of the muscles. 
When a nervous impulse travels down one of these nerves, 
it causes the muscle with which it is connected to con- 
tract, and this in turn brings about a movement of the 
part of the body in which the muscle is found. When the 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



25 



reader raises his hand to turn the page of this book, the 
movement is brought about by just such a nervous impulse 
originating in the brain and passing from that point 
through the spinal cord and over motor nerves into the 
muscles of the hand and arm. Similarly, an impulse may 




Fig. 5. — Diagram to illustrate synapsis of arborization of axone of 
a sensory receptor from the skin, 8K, with dendritic terminals 
of central system neurones, 1, 2. The synapses of motor axones, 
3, 4, with dendrites of an effector terminating in a muscle, M, 
are similarly shown. 

be sent out into a gland, which is then thrown into activity, 
whether of secretion or excretion. A cinder in the eye 
will thus occasion a flow of tears. As we shall see in more 
detail at a later point, certain of the glands are excited 
to great activity by the more powerful emotions. 

The central adjustor nerves are located within the great 



26 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

masses of the spinal cord and the brain, and we shall give 
a brief description of them presently. 

Neurones come into connection with one another at 
the terminal points of their fibers as shown in Fig. 5. 
Whether they actually touch or not is unknown. At all 
events they are very close to one another. Such junction 
points are called synapses and are of very great impor- 
tance in the operation of the nerves. Like the nerve fibers 
themselves, they are seemingly polarized, so that impulses 
can pass in only one direction. 

The Sensory-Motor Pattern of the Nervous System. — 
The fundamental pattern in accordance with which the 
nervous system is built up involves, as we have already 
indicated, (1) a system of receptors, (2) a system of 
effectors, and (3) a system of interconnecting nerves by 
means of which the various muscles are brought into com- 
munication with the various sense organs, so that (4) a 
stimulation of any one of the latter may occasion a move- 
ment of any one of the former. (See Fig. 6B, C.) In the 
lower types of organism, these connections are relatively 
fixed and rigid, and in the first instance the muscles 
are innervated by impulses which arise from sense organs 
lying in the same region of the body. This arrangement 
is represented diagrammatieally in the accompanying 
sketch. (Fig. 6A.) The use of such an arc, or circuit, as 
it is called, would be illustrated by the reflex withdrawal 
of the hand when it is cut or bruised or burned. In such 
a case the nervous impulse passes up the receptors into the 
spinal cord, where it is turned about and sent over the 
effectors into the muscles of the hand and arm. 

The brain and the cord in their entirety represent very 
elaborate complications of this basic pattern, of such a 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



27 



kind as to permit almost every conceivable combination of 
relations between sense organs and muscles. The hand 
may be moved not only in response to stimulations from, 
the skin of its own surfaces, but also in response to stimu- 




A 




Fig. 6. 

A exhibits pattern of the simplest sensory-motor arc, where a peri- 
pheral stimulus immediately elicits a movement of the region 
stimulated; 1 is the receptor, 2 the connector and 3 the effector. 
In some very simple reflexes 1 may be directly conjoined with 
3, omitting 2. The diagram also suggests in the dotted line a 
very important fact, i.e., that the contraction of M sets up kin- 
aesthetic sensory impulses which pass into the nervous centers, 
opening a new circuit, and in turn, perhaps, eliciting other 
movements. 

B illustrates how two sets of muscles may be innervated from either 
of two sets of sense organs. The same pattern can be elaborated 
to include all the senses and all the muscles. It is purely 
diagrammatic. The actual paths would involve many more 
neurones. 

illustrates rudely three levels of circuits in the nervous system. 
The lowest, r, is purely reflex and does not necessarily involve 
consciousness. It is typified by the conditions in the spinal 
cord, medulla, and lower brain centers. These neurone circuits 
are congenitally open. The second, y, represents the level of 
crude perceptual reactions and mere sensory-motor learning, 
such as most animals exhibit. The sensory-motor regions of 
the cerebrum are presumably represented in these circuits. 
The ideational circuits are represented by i and involve con- 
scious memory, imagination, reflective thought and rational in- 
ference. In addition to the sensory-motor zones, this circuit 
makes use of the most highly developed regions of the cerebral 
cortex, i.e., the frontal, parietal and other association areas- 
See the later part of this chapter. 



28 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

lations from other cutaneous regions, as when one lifts the 
right hand to remove some object pressing upon the left 
hand, or some other body surface. Similarly, it may be 
moved in response to a sound which is heard, or an object 
seen, etc. As we have already observed, many of these 
muscular movements are inherited, and are, upon the 
appropriate stimulation, executed without previous train- 
ing. The simplest of such acts are called reflexes (e.g., 
coughing, sneezing, crying). Many others, however, and 
among them the acts of most psychological interest, are in 
part or wholly acquired, that is, learned. The flexible 
organization of the central adjustor nerves renders such 
learning possible, because it permits the conjoining of any 
receptor with any effector. If the hand, for example, could 
not be controlled by stimulations from the eye but only 
by those from the skin, it would be extremely difficult to 
learn to write, cr to use the typewriter, or to perform any 
of the other acts of skill in which the hand is largely di- 
rected by vision. Moreover, in man — in contrast to the 
conditions found in many animals — arrangements exist for 
the control of the muscles from ideational, as well as from 
sensorial, centers. 

If the reader will bear constantly in mind this notion 
of the central nervous system as made up of elaborate com- 
binations of sensory and motor elements, it will be found 
to throw light upon the general anatomical situation, which 
we may now attempt to describe in a little more detail. 

Main Divisions of the Central System. — The central 
nervous system comprises the brain, the spinal cord, and 
the two great groups of receptor and effector nerves. (See 
Figs. 7 and 8.) The brain and cord are nothing but 
masses of nerves gathered together and held in place partly 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



2& 



Cer 





Figs. 7 and 8. — Fig. 7 at the left shows the general relations of the 
central nervous system to the bones of the skull and spine. 



30 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

by the veins and arteries, partly by a connective support- 
ing tissue called neuroglia, and partly by a series of 
strong, firm membranes enclosing these great masses as 
though within the walls of an irregularly shaped bag. In 
the case of the brain, these containing membranes are 
attached to the bones of the skull, and in the case of the 
cord are supported within the central canal of the spinal 
vertebrae. 

Figure 9 illustrates in a rude way the essential features 
in the structure of the spinal cord. The outer regions of 
the cord near its surfaces are exclusively occupied by nerve 
fibers which carry impulses to and fro. The inner regions, 
on the other hand, are largely composed of cell bodies, 
v^^hich, as we earlier learned, are the centers from which 
the nerve fibers spring. The two great functions of the 
€ord are at once suggested by its anatomical appearance. 
It is first a great reflex center, receiving impulses from 
sense organs, and immediately sending them out again into 
muscles and glands. If the sole of the foot be tickled or 



Fig. 8 at the right displays the general contours of the central 
system as seen from in front. The great ganglionated cord of 
the sympathetic system is shown attached to one side of the 
spinal nerves; the other side has been cut away. Ger., the 
cerebral hemispheres; 0, the olfactory centers; P, the pons 
Varolii; M, the medulla oblongata; Ch., the cerebellum; 8p. C, 
the spinal cord; /, the olfactory nerve; //, the optic nerve; ///, 
the oculo-motor nerve, connected like IV, the trochlear nerve 
and VI, the abducens nerve, with the muscles of the eye; V, 
trigeminus, made up in part of sensory fibers coming from the 
face and scalp, partly of motor fibers supplying neighboring 
regions; VII, the facial nerve, similarly in part giving sensory 
fibers to the face, tongue and neck, in part made up of motor 
fibers; VIII, the auditory nerve; IX, glossopharyngeal nerve, 
giving both sensory and motor fibers to throat and tongue; X, 
the vagus nerve, both sensory and motor, very complex distribu- 
tion, chiefly to heart, stomach and other viscera ; XI, spinal 
accessory, connected with sympathetic system; XII, hypo- 
glossal nerve, motor fibers to tongue. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



31 



pricked, there is at once a reflex jerk of the foot for which 
the spinal cord is responsible ; and this is typical of other 
forms of reflex action under the control of the cord. In 
the "second place, it is the great channel through which 
impulses from many receptors flow upward into the brain. 



Anterior root 

Central motor pathway 
Motor ganglion cell 

Sensory collateral 
Peripheral motor fiber 



Motor nerve 
ending in muscle 



Sensory fiber — 



Peripheral 
ending sensory 
nerve 




■^ Posterior root 



" ^ Ascending and 

_ descending branch of 
•' Bensory fiber 



" > Sensory collateral 



a Cell and fiber of 
lateral column 



— — Bipolar cell of spinal ganglion 



Fig. 9. — Schematic representation of the connection of sensory and 
motor nerves with the spinal cord, and their synapses with one 
another inside the gray matter of the cord. The cross section 
at the top of the diagram exhibits clearly the difference between 
the white marginal fibrous material and the H-shaped center 
of gray cellular matter. Reference to Figure 9 will show how 
the combined sensory-motor strands make their exit between 
the vertebrae. 

and through which these impulses are returned from the 
brain to the muscles. The outer regions of the cord are 
those principally engaged in this conductive function. 
The central regions contain the arrangements whereby the- 
reflexes are brought about, i.e., the contact of terminals. 



32 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



from the receptors with terminals of the effectors. There 
are similar synapses of central adjustors, or connectors, 
with effectors. Thus the motor nerves from the cerebrum 



F^L 




RFC 



Fig. 



OL 

10. — The brain seen from below. FL, the frontal lobes of the 
cerebral hemispheres; OB, bulb of olfactory nerve; TL, tem- 
poral lobes; ON, optic nerve; HG, hippocampal gyrus; LPC, 
RFC, left and right peduncles, or legs, of the brain, great masses 
of fibers; P, pons Varolii, or bridge, great band of fibers con- 
necting the two sides of the cerebellum ; MO, medulla oblongata ; 
C, cerebellum; 8€, spinal cord; OL, occipital lobes. (Modified 
from Edinger. ) 



discharge over neurones which join them in the gray matter 
of the spinal eord. 

It will, no doubt, be understood that the upper regions 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



33 



of the cord are connected with the upper portions of the 
body, and the lower portions with the lower parts of the 
trunk and with the legs. This is true both as regards the 
receptors and the effectors. These are both gathered up 
into bundles which are given off from the cord in pairs 
between the vertebrae. As shown in Fig. 9, the sensory or 
receptor group enters the posterior lateral part of the cord, 




ON 



Fig. 11. — Diagrammatic sketch of a vertical section from front to 
back through the central regions of the hemispheres, cerebellum, 
brain stem and cord. CE, cerebral hemispheres; CQ, corpora 
quadrigemina ; C6, cerebellum; ^0, the spinal cord; P, pons 
Varolii; T, optic thalamus; OiV, optic nerve. The sketch indi- 
cates a few of the neurone paths. (Modified from Edinger.) 



the motor or effector group is given off on the anterior 
lateral surface. 

At the point where the cord leaves the spinal vertebrae 
to enter the skull, it broadens out to form the 7nedulla 
oblongata. This structure contains a number of extremely 
important reflex centers. For example, here are located 



34 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



the nerve centers primarily responsible for the control of 
breathing. The rate of the heart beat may also be altered 
by impulses from the medulla. Furthermore, the distribu- 
tion of the blood in the body, e.g., as between the skin and 
the viscera, is controlled from this region. 




Fig. 12. — A sketch to indicate the general location of the optic 
thalami. The cerebral hemispheres have been entirely removed 
and all but a portion of the right side of the cerebellum. T, 
optic thalami. Figure 11 should be compared with this. GB, 
geniculate bodies; GQ, corpora quadrigemina ; P, a segment of 
the pons Varolii; G, cerebellum; M, medulla oblongata; &G, 
spinal cord. (After Edinger.) 



As we pass upward, we encounter a number of other 
conspicuous parts of the brain, such as the cerebellum, the 
pons or bridge, the corpora quadrigemina, the optic 
thalami, etc. (See Figs. 10, 11, 12.) The functions of 
many of these organs are still obscure, and it will be un- 
profitable for us to give them consideration, with one or 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 35 

two exceptions. In every case, however, it is to be under- 
stood that they consist of masses of cell bodies and fibers 
similar to those in the spinal cord and medulla. 

The cerebellum, whatever other part it may play, is 
quite certainly responsible for the orderly control of our 
muscular movements, particularly such as are involved in 
our maintenance of bodily balance. As we walk, for ex- 
ample, it is clearly essential, if our gait is to be effective, 
that each of the muscles controlling the foot, knee, and 
hip should contract at just the right time and to just the 
right extent. Were the muscles controlling the knee to 
contract too soon or too violently, one's balance would 
obviously be disturbed, and a well-ordered pace would be 
impossible. The cerebellum receives from moment to mo- 
ment sensory reports of the bodily position, and orders 
the motor discharges to meet the requirements. 

In general those parts of the central system lying below 
the cerebral hemispheres have to do with our reflex and 
instinctive behavior. They operate under the general 
supervision of the cerebrum, a fact which is shown by the 
exaggeration of their activities when the hemispheres are 
destroyed, as may happen in certain animals without caus- 
ing death. The acquired acts depend more definitely upon 
the cerebrum. 

The Cerebral Hemispheres. — Omitting for a few mo- 
ments some brief comments on the thalami, this brings us 
then to that part of the brain most intimately connected 
with mental life, to-wit, the cerebral hemispheres. This is 
the organ whose great size, relative to the other parts of 
the brain, distinguishes the nervous system of man and 
the higher animals like the apes, from those lower down 
in the scale. In man, too, the association regions, to be 



36 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Figs. 13 and 14. 

Fig. 13 shows the lateral surfaces of the right hemisphere of the 
cerebrum, figure 14 the inner mesial surface of the left hemisphere. 
The latter section is made through the corpus callosum, the right 
hemisphere being removed. Surfaces covered by colored dots are 
the so-called motor regions, whence originate neurones in control 
of voluntary muscles. There are some small and relatively unim- 
portant motor areas elsewhere in the cortex, e.g., in the occipital 
region some connected with vision. The sensory areas, the receiving 
stations for sensory impulses from the periphery, are indicated by 
black dots. The regions most heavily dotted, Ijoth sensory and motor, 
are those most indispensable for the given function. The areas less 
heavily dotted are those which are less uniformly employed in the 
exercise of the function, or whose derangement affects the secondary 
or more complex use of the function. For example, visual images 
and ideas may be disturbed by injuries in the visual areas which 
do not seriously impair crude sensations of sight. The areas free 
from dots are the association regions, which Flechsig has divided 
into a number of subordinate districts. 

R, Rolando, a deep fissure separating the convolutions of If, the 
principal motor regions, from B, the somaesthetic sensory regions for 
bodily sense impressions, e.g., touch, temperature, kinsesthetic. The 
right half of the body is in general controlled by the left side of 
the cerebral cortex as regards bbth sensory and motor processes. In 
the motor-somsesthetic area specific parts of the body are controlled 
by special regions of the cortex, e.g., the muscles of the legs are 
controlled from centers lying just under the letter M in Figure 13. 
The speech muscles are controlled from regions near the lower edge 
of the motor convolution in this figure. Injury to the left side (in 
right-handed people) is likely to produce motor aphasia, i.e., in- 
ability to articulate correctly. The patient is not paralyzed, but 
cannot pronounce his words correctly. A center somewhat higher 
up controls hand-writing. These relations are all suggested in 
Figure 19. Y, visual center. Injury here may produce various 
effects depending on its location and extent. Total blindness to 
half the field of view, inability to read or understand what is seen, 
without actually being blind, are all found as symptoms of occipital 
lobe injuries. H, auditory center. In right-handed persons injury 
to the left hemisphere in this region is likely to result in sensory 
aphasia, inability to understand words when heard. Complete 
destruction of the region on both sides is said to be followed by total 
deafness. 0, the olfactory center which exends in a great loop up 
over the corpus callosum. The extent of the area is quite uncertain 
and the drawing simply suggests the facts at present generally recog- 
nized. The confinement of motor and somaesthetic areas to the region 
above the limbic lobe of the corpus callosum is also tentative, al- 
though asserted by competent investigators. O.B., the olfactory 
bulb; O.T., the olfactory tract; O.T.A., occipito-temporal association 
area; A.P., parietal association area, continuous with the occipito- 
temporal association area; A.F., frontal association area; /., the 
Island of Reil, another association area to show which the cortical 
surfaces just above the fissure of Sylvius have been lifted up; C.G., 
the corpus callosum, a great band of fibers connecting the two sides 
of the hemispheres. 




OTA 



Fig. 13 




^-AF 



Fig. 14 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



37 



explained in a moment, are relatively much larger than in 
most animals. However, man apparently owes his superior 
intelligence more to the organization of his brain than to 
its size. As is indicated in Figs. 8, 13 and 14,^ the hemi- 



c 



voc 



TOC 



R()G 

Ro. I Co. 
t 



AOC 



T()C 

Aw 

M()C 

c|c. 

H I C 



COS cooi 



TOG 



ROMC 



BOG 



MoG 

sJg 0(j)C 
t 



El S 



SOG' 



Ml 



Fig. 15. — Diagram to illustrate the shortest pathways from sense 
organs to cortex, and from cortex to muscles. No doubt the 
actual pathways are generally more complex. 

Taking the skin nerves as an example of the sensory pathways we 
find, first, an end-organ in the skin, then a cell in the ganglion 
outside the spinal cord sending a fiber out to the end-organ 
and another to the cord. The next neurone has its cell-body 
in the medulla and communicates with one located in the 
thalamic region, which in turn communicates with a cell in the 
cerebral cortex, thus completing the chain from skin to cere- 
brum. Passing downward from motor centers we find a long 
fiber extending through the so-called pyramidal pathway (of 
which the principal crossed tract is shown in Fig. 18) and 
terminating, somewhere in the gray matter of the anterior horn 
of the spinal cord, where it communicates with another neurone 
which sends out a fiber to a muscle. A similar arrangement 
obtains in the case of certain of the muscles of the head, such 

^ These figures and the legends accompanying them should be 
very carefully studied. The student should understand that the 
figures and diagrams constitute a highly important part of the text, 
which cannot be mastered without their use. 



38 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

spheres constitute by far the larger part of the human 
brain. Although the nerves which compose them belong to 
our third adjustor group, it is common to distinguish on 
the surfaces of the hemispheres, known as the cortex, 
(1) sensory, (2) motor, and (3) association regions. This 
means that nervous pathways from the sensory receptors 
come to tJie surface in certain definite zones, that effector 
tracts leading to muscles originate similarly in other zones, 
and that the remainder of the cortical structure is com- 
posed of nerves which join the several regions with one 
another.^ Except that all the senses are represented in the 
cerebral cortex, - as they are not in the cord, this general 
distribution is similar to, although very much more com- 
plex than, that of the cord. To be sure, in the cord, the 
'white' fibrous matter is all on the outer surfaces, and the 
' gray ' cellular matter is wholly surrounded by this fibrous 

as the ocular muscles, for example, where, however, the imme- 
diately controlling neurones issue not from the spinal cord, but 
from the brain stem. With this explanation and the legend 
which follows, the diagram will be easily understood., 
I, the visual tract; Ro. and Co., rods and cones; BC, bipolar retinal 
cell; RG, large retinal ganglion; TC, cell-body in the thalamic 
region; YC, cell in the visual cortex of the occipital region. 
2, the auditory tract ; EG, hair cell of the cochlea ; CC, ganglion 
cell of the cochlea; MG, cell in the medulla oblongata; TC, as 
in the visual tract; AC, cell in the auditory cortex of the upper 
temporal region. 3, a cutaneous tract; ES, end-organ in the 
skin; 8G, cell of the spinal ganglion on the posterior root of 
the cord; MG and TC as before; CS, sensory cell in the cortex 
posterior to the Rolandic region. 4, an olfactory tract, different 
in character from other sensory paths; OG, olfactory sensory 
cell in upper part of nasal cavity; BC, cell in the olfactory 
bulb; COl, cell in the olfactory cortex of the hippocampal 
region. 5, a motor tract; RMG, motor cell of the Rolandic 
region; SG, motor cell of the spinal cord, sending down a proc- 
ess to M, a muscle. 

^ Figure 15 exhibits certain interesting facts regarding the num- 
ber and location of the neurones in the important sensory and 
motor paths. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



39 



cover, whereas in the cortex the conditions are exactly re- 
versed. (See Fig. 16.) But the great outstanding differ- 




FiQ. 16. — Diagrammatic section of the cerebral cortex taken at right 
angles to the surface. The right side of the drawing illustrates 
the fiber system alone. The left side illustrates primarily the 



40 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

ence is found in the fact that mental processes are con- 
nected with the action of the cortex in a way which seems 
not to be true of the cord. 

Our knowledge of the facts which are now to be briefly 
stated rests in part upon the teachings of anatomy, which 
has by dissection worked out the topographical connections 
of the different portions of the brain, in part upon evidence 
gained by experimental physiology as a result of observa- 
tions upon animals, and finally in part upon the findings 
of pathology, with its discoveries of the effect upon human 
mental life of injury to particular regions of the bratn. 
While not in every detail harmonious and consistent, the 
general indications of the evidence gained from these 
various sources are remarkably uniform. 

Consciousness and the Cerebral Cortex. — Conscious 
memory is apparently dependent upon the integrity of the 
cerebral cortex. If the retinae are destroyed by accident 
or disease, blindness is the inevitable result. But memory 
of visual objects need not be impaired. If, however, ex- 
tensive injury occurs in that part of the cortex in which 
the visual pathways terminate, visual memory is obliterated 
or gravely invaded. Injury to other of the so-called sen- 
sory regions exercises a corresponding effect upon the 
sensory memories appropriate to the region affected. On 
the other hand, if the tissues of the so-called motor zone 
are destroyed, control over particular muscles is lost, 
temporarily, if not permanently. Injuries to the asso- 
ciation regions have more am^biguous and irregular 

cellular layers. The structure is so complex that it is difficult 
to display both sets of facts in a single sketch. 1, molecular 
layer next the surface of the brain ; 2 and 3, layers of pyramidal 
cells; 4, layer of polymorphous cells; 8.F., fiber of a sensory 
neurone entering to terminate in the outer molecular layer. 
(Modified from Morat.) 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 41 

consequences. Interesting experiments upon monkeys 
suggest quite definitely that with these animals, whose 
brain organization closely resembles our own, injuries 
in the frontal association zone tend to destroy acquired 
habits, which must then be re-learned. Many observa- 
tions on human beings had led to the frequent con- 
clusion that these frontal regions were actively involved 
in the use of attention. The significance of tFe other asso- 
ciation zones is at present somewhat less clear, but brain 
diseases indicate quite definitely that coherent connection 
of ideas is materially impaired by derangement at these 
points. For instance, a patient suffering from a disorder 
of this type in the parietal association region (see Fig. 13) 
might find it quite impossible to recognize the meaning of 
a knife or fork, or to remember the uses to which they are 
ordinarily put, although in such a case there would be 
no question of failure to see the object. In the disease 
called dementia, the tissues of the brain disintegrate and 
with the disintegration disappears all mental organization. 
The attempt has sometimes been made to establish a cor- 
respondence between the three great divisions of the nerves 
which we have described, and the fundamental forms of 
mental action. The receptors are thus said to correspond 
to sensation. The effectors are alleged to correspond 
to the will, and the central adjusters are set over against 
memory, imagination, and the reasoning processes. In so 
far as this formulation serves roughly to emphasize cer- 
tain physiological activities essential to each of these great 
modes of mental expression, it is unobjectionable. But if 
understood in any literal and precise fashion, it may be 
seriously misleading. Although the receptors are indis- 
pensable for sensation, the cerebral cortex is also indis- 



42 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

pensable; and similarly, while the effector nerves are 
requisite to secure actual expression for acts of will, the 
motor cortex is quite as necessary, These considerations 
suggest the real truth about the connection of mental with 
physiological processes, i.e., that while certain elements in 
mental life depend in a measure upon specific nervous 
structures, the entire nervous system is really involved in 
all mental occurrences. A few illustrations will perhaps 
serve to make the matter clear. 

If with closed eyes one recalls the appearance of some 
familiar object, we have every reason to believe that the 
visual regions of the cerebral cortex are active and that 
they are more indispensable for this particular kind of 
mental action than any other part of the system. But we 
have also many reasons for believing that the very process 
by which we attend to these visual pictures of the object 
recalled, involves the action of the association areas. More- 
over, the securing and maintaining of a bodily attitude 
favorable to our carrying out this undertaking, e.g., closing 
the eyes, while holding the large muscles of the body firm 
and quiet, involves the cooperation of the motor regions of 
the cortex and the innervation of many of the muscles. 
Again, to give our attention to a faint sound whose direc- 
tion and distance we are attempting to determine involves 
primarily the auditory regions of the cortex; but, second- 
arily, as we put now this interpretation and now that upon 
what we hear, the association regions of the cerebrum 
are certainly involved. Moreover, it is perfectly obvious 
that the movements of the head which we employ to assist 
us in determining the source of the sound, are brought 
about by impulses which in part, at least, originate in the 
motor cerebral zones. The reader can, no doubt, supply 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 43 

abundant other instances to support the same general con- 
clusion, to-wit, that the entire cortex is in greater or lesser 
degree involved in every mental act. The complex inter- 
connection of different regions on the same side of the 
cortex, and of the two sides of the cortex with one another 
and with the lower brain centers is indicated in Figs. 17 
and 18. 




Fig. 17. — Diagram of a vertical cross section from front to back 
through the central region of the cerebral cortex to illustrate 
the system of fibers connecting the cortical centers with one 
another. (James after Starr.) 

This 'integrating' action of the cortex by which it 
brings into a unified organized whole the processes going 
forward in various of its parts extends also to its super- 
vision over the lower centers. Impulses coming from the 
spinal cord here combine with other impulses from the 
organs of special sense, like the eye and the ear. and issue 
in coordinated motor responses. The highest of these 
forms of coordination occur when we engage in a pro- 



44 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



longed and abstruse thought process, involving presumably 
large demands upon the frontal and parietal association 
areas. Such a process may then issue in a decision, an 




Pig. 18. — Schematic transverse section of the human brain through 
the Rolandic region to show the crossing of motor fibers in the 
neighborhood of the medulla. In general the right side of the 
brain controls the left side of the body and vice versa. S, fis- 
sure of Sylvius; C.C., corpus callosum; 0. T., optic thalamus; 
C, peduncles, or legs, of the brain; P, the pons; 31, medulla 
oblongata; VII, the facial nerves passing out from their nucleus 
in the region of the pons. (After James.) 



act of will, given effect through the muscles controlling 
speech. Fig. 19 illustrates some simple coordinations ex- 
ecuted by the brain in response to sensory stimulations. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



45 



Possible Functions of the Optic Thalami.— Recent 
clinical studies have given ground to believe that certain 
regions at least of the great group of nervous elements 
known as the optic thalami (see Figs. 10, 11, 12) are per- 




FiG, 19. — Diagram to show the cortical pathways involved when one 
speaks or writes in response to what is seen or heard. A is the 
auditory center, V, the visual, TF, the writing, and E, that for 
speech. (After James.) 



haps the centers upon which the affective parts of our 
mental experiences depend, i.e., the agreeableness or dis- 
agreeableness of our sensations and ideas. The evidence 
can hardly be called conclusive, but it is certainly very 



46 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

suggestive and the reader will have observed that no 
region of the cerebral cortex has been made responsible for 
these conspicuous factors in mental life. 

The Autonomic System. — While our sensations, our 
memories, our reasonings, and our acts of will are, in a 
true and proper sense, dependent upon the central nerv- 
ous system, and particularly upon the cerebral cortex, the 
autonomic system plays a very important part in our 
mental experience and deserves some further comment. 
This division of the nervous system got its name because 
it was supposed to be essentially self -controlling, and self- 
directing. 

The autonomic system, like the central system, is com- 
posed of groups of nerves. These nerves, although they 
differ somewhat in appearance from the nerves of the cen- 
tral system, are nevertheless of essentially similar struc- 
ture. The largest, and in many ways the most important 
group, consists of the so-called sympathetic system, which 
is made up of two great strands of fibers and cell bodies, 
placed one on either side of the spinal cord, with which 
they are connected by very complicated arrangements of 
fibers. (See Fig. 8.) Other groups of these autonomic 
nerves are found distributed through the viscera and at 
various points throughout the skull cavity. For example, 
one highly important group is located in the muscular walls 
of the heart; another is connected with the walls of the 
stomach. Still others control certain of the glands and 
muscles of the eye. 

It is through the operations of the sympathetic system 
that all the great vital processes of digestion, respiration, 
and circulation are carried forward. The beating of the 
heart is brought about by nervous impulses which originate 



THE NEBVOUS SYSTEM 47 

in the autonomic nerves in its own muscle walls, although 
the rate of the contractions is influenced by the medulla. 
The contractions of the muscle* fibers of the stomach and 
intestines, the secretion of the various fluids required by 
the digestive process, these and all the other features of 
the assimilation of foodstuffs and the excretion of waste 
products are carried out by the nerves of this system. In- 
asmuch as these vital functions, including respiration and 
the circulation of the blood, are ordinarily unconscious, it 
might seem as though this part of the nervous system were 
unimportant for mental life. Of course, one can readily 
understand that only on the basis of reasonably healthful 
organic conditions may one expect to live a normal mental 
life, and in so far the dependence of our conscious processes 
upon the autonomic system is self-evident. But there is 
a much more significant set of facts to be taken into 
account. 

The most exciting parts of our experience are undoubt- 
edly found in our emotions. So long as our affairs run 
along smoothly, we hardly ever remark their mental char- 
acter. But the moment they become in any way exciting, 
whether they cause us apprehension and solicitude, or the 
delights of thrilling anticipation, we suddenly become 
cognizant of a group of factors which under other condi- 
tions appear to be wholly lacking. In fear, and even em- 
barrassment, the heart misbehaves itself in a way to at- 
tract our painful notice. This misbehavior is occasioned 
by the nerves of the autonomic system, and without antici- 
pating at this point the more detailed analyses which we 
shall have occasion to make in a later chapter, we may 
content ourselves with the general statement that many of 
the characteristic features of emotion are to be found in 



48 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

bodily reactions for which the autonomic system is very 
largely responsible. Recent investigations have shown that 
in emotions like anger and fear, the secretions of certain 
internal glands, the adrenals, play a very important part. 
The activity of the salivary glands and the tear-producing 
glands in certain emotions will suggest other instances of 
the glandular accompaniments of states of excitement. 

The facts presented in the last few paragraphs will 
serve to give point to the statement made early in this 
chapter, that the central system and the autonomic system 
are most intimately related to one another, and that both 
are fundamentally significant for the activities of the mind. 



CHAPTER IV 
CONSCIOUSNESS AND HABIT FORMATION 

Relation of Consciousness to Instinctive and Auto- 
matic Acts. — One fundamental conception runs through, 
this book, which may be conveniently introduced at once. 
This is the theory that conscious acts arise amid the heredi- 
tary reflex and instinctive acts, like swallowing, crying, 
sleeping, and pass over into non-conscious habits, such as 
writing and walking. We may now explain more fully 
just what is meant by this idea. 

The general conception of consciousness as a part of 
the adjusting equipment of the organism has prepared the 
reader to appreciate the fact that if the reflex and heredi- 
tary responses of the organism to its environment were 
wholly satisfactory for the maintenance of the life of the 
individual and the race, there would be no particular justi- 
fication for the appearance of consciousness, and certainly 
no available explanation of it on evolutionary grounds. It 
is a natural consequence of this view to look for the 
appearance of conscious processes at those points both in 
individual and racial development where reflex and heredi- 
tary automatic acts are inadequate to meet environmental 
demands. 

So far as concerns the history of the individual, this 
conception seems sound enough. In so far as the needs 
of the organism are adequately met in the early life of 
infancy, consciousness is present in only a fleeting and 

49 



50 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

interrupted way. But as development takes place, the 
organism, is exposed to a large variety of conditions in 
which the hereditary equipment is hopelessly inadequate 
to cope with the situation. At such points consciousness is 
always to be found. 

Similarly in the history of the race, the points at 
which the evidences of mind are most unequivocal are 
those in which a purely mechanical, stereotyped response 
of the ordinary hereditary kind, is obviously ill-adapted 
to steer its possessor and his offspring through the vicissi- 
tudes of life. 

The general doctrine of this chapter, then, is that once 
neuro-conscious process has contributed to the establish- 
ment of needed coordinations, it leaves its accomplishments 
behind for use by the non-conscious devices of the nervous 
system and itself goes forward to new tasks. 

Attention has been called in a previous chapter to the 
fact that the human organism possesses a considerable 
group of motor activities which are supplied it by nature 
and which serve the more immediate purposes of support- 
ing life. These acts are illustrated in the various reflexes 
which are for the most part unconscious, and in those 
automatic acts by which digestion, circulation, respiration, 
and the other life-sustaining bodily functions are carried 
on. Over against these forms of action are the acquired 
habits, such as walking, talking, writing, and the like. 
All of these when perfected exhibit at times a considerable 
degree of freedom from conscious supervision. ' 

Part Played, by Consciousness in Learning New Acts. 
— While one is learning to write, consciousness is involved 
in the most alert and intense manner. The position of 
the hand, the mode of grasping the pen, the model to be 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND HABIT FORMATION 51 

copied, the movement necessary to form each part of the 
letter — all these things, one after the other, are the objects 
of vivid attention. As mastery is gradually gained of now 
one and now another step in the process, conscious super- 
vision becomes more and more indirect and incidental, until 
finally, with the acquirement of complete control over the 
coordination, one is able to give almost exclusive attention 
to the thoughts which are to be put upon paper, retaining 
only the most general oversight of the writing act itself. 

An acquirement of this kind is spoken of as a habit, and 
once such a habit is thoroughly mastered, it can be taken 
up into the formation of a larger habit in which it then 
becomes a member. Thus a bank clerk is likely to estab- 
lish a fairly fixed routine for his daily work, which soon 
becomes habitual; but in this larger habit are included 
such less automatized acts as writing, adding, subtracting, 
multiplying and dividing. 

This illustration may serve in a homely way to exhibit 
what is meant by the doctrine formulated above. Mental 
process seems always to find its appropriate place in con- 
nection with the upbuilding of just such habits. When 
these have become sufficiently perfect, they are passed over 
almost entirely to the automatic control of the nervous sys- 
tem, leaving the mind itself free to go forward to the 
creation of other habits, or to the construction of groups 
of habits in which these smaller components may find a 
place. Our social and physical surroundings generally 
change enough to prevent us from reducing our actions 
wholly to the habitual type. We are constantly challenged 
to make new adjustments. The mind itself, then, is always 
moving on to new conquests, is always literally seeking 
new worlds to conquer. This at least is true in a bona 



52 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

fide way as long as we continue to grow mentally. In the 
natural course of any human life, there comes a period when 
we literally cease to grow, followed by a period when our 
mentality begins to decay. All statements about mental 
growth must therefore be made subject to the qualifica- 
tions implied in this situation. 

There are certain interesting aspects of this process of 
acquiring automatic habits or coordinations which it will 
be profitable to pass in brief review. 

Origin and Utility of Spontaneous Movements. — In 
the first place, then, it should be understood that in addi- 
tion to the strictly reflex acts, there are innumerable 
movements of the muscles of the limbs and body made by 
little babies long before they are really able to control 
their actions. During their waking moments the muscles 
of the face, hands, and feet of the youngest children are 
often in active motion. These spontaneous or random 
movements, as they are sometimes called, constitute the 
material of which the later controlled movements are 
largely composed. In some fashion or other, with the 
details of which we are frankly but imperfectly acquainted, 
intelligence steps in and organizes these miscellaneous and 
somewhat accidental movements into effective coordinated 
acts. Certain general features of the process we can de- 
scribe, partly on the basis of our observation of children 
during the process of their growth in muscular control, 
and partly by analysis of our own adult performances 
when learning a new act of skill. 

One of the first expressions of voluntary control in a 
baby is found in the process by which it learns to extend 
its hand and grasp objects which are seen. Titer e seems 
to he a general disposition for all strong sensory stimida- 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND HABIT FORMATION 53 

iions to drain off into widespread bodily movements. This 
fact seems natural enough in view of the tendency of 
sensory nerves to carry impulses forward into muscles. 
The stronger the impulse, the more widely we may reason- 
ably expect to find its results distributed in the muscle 
groups. Whether all the movements of hands and arms 
which one may observe in a young child are occasioned by 
immediately present sense stimulations, or whether gome 
of them may proceed from a sort of internal nervous ex- 
plosion, we do not know. At all events it is intelligible 
that bright and shining objects, such as are first to catch 
and hold a baby's visual attention, should elicit among 
other responses vigorous movements of the arms and hands. 
As a consequence, it is almost certain sooner or later to 
occur that some of these movements will result in bringing 
the object seen into contact with the hand. Indeed, par- 
ents are sure to expedite and facilitate this outcome by 
putting objects where they can be readily seized. It so 
happens that in early infancy there is an essentially reflex 
tendency to close the hand upon objects which stimulate 
the skin of the fingers and palms. So strong is this reflex 
that newly born infants can sustain their own weight by 
grasping a small rod. 

Establishment of Successful Coordinations. — There is 
a good deal of diversity of opinion among psychologists 
as to the processes which intervene between this initial 
experience of grasping an object seen, and the final 
achievement of the skilful control possessed by adults. 
There can be no question that in the early stages of the 
development of such a habit there is often a condition of 
great excitement and keen pleasure. Such conditions 
seem favorable to the rapid stamping in upon the nervous 



54: AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

system of those impressions which will conduce most 
quickly to the securing of an automatic habit. Certain it 
is that either lack of interest, or the presence of painful 
sensations at any stage of the process, tends to discourage 
and disintegrate the growing coordination. 

It must not be supposed that success in one attempt 
necessarily implies equal success in all succeeding attempts. 
In general, the progress from the initial stage to the per- 
fected habit is slow and irregular, and in the case of the 
great majority of the motor accomplishments of little 
children is brought about by a process known to psycholo- 
gists as trial and error, and in ordinary parlance, as 'try, 
try again.' In certain forms of adult learning, of which 
we shall have something to say at a later point, there is 
an obvious attempt to make use of reflection and reason- 
ing, to see how and why a particular movement ought to 
be made and then to go about the making of it. But in 
these primitive forms of acquiring control, the first 
method is chiefly in evidence. 

In one and all these cases, the point to be carefully 
borne in mind is that during the learning stage there is 
a very vivid consciousness of what is going on step by 
step ; whereas after the act is substantially mastered there 
may be only the most indirect and casual conscious super- 
vision. 

Elimination of Useless Movements. — One striking fea- 
ture distinguishing the earlier from the later stages in 
these learning processes is found in the presence at the 
outset of large numbers of superfluous movements, some 
of which are merely useless, while others actually hinder 
progress. In the perfected habit, almost all of these have 
been eliminated. It is as though Nature called out from 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND HABIT FORMATION 55 

the organism a surplus of movements, among which may 
haply be found the little group indispensable for the 
specific purpose in hand. The process of establishing the 
coordination consists, then, first in the selection and fixa- 
tion of the essential motor elements from among move- 
ments actually occurring, and second, in the gradual 
elimination of those which are needless. Abundant con- 
firmation of these statements may be found in observing 
a child while he is acquiring control over almost any motor 
dexterity. Writing, as we have already suggested, is apt at 
the outset to involve a great mass of perfectly needless 
movements of head, tongue, shoulders, and body. Slowly 
these fall away, until there are left substantially only 
such motions as are really required. Gracefulness has 
sometimes been declared to depend upon the use of only 
essential movements. However true this definition, it cer- 
tainly may be adopted as a just description of economic 
efficiency. It underlies all the attempts to secure maximal 
efficiency in industrial occupations. 

Habit and the Sensory-Motor Circuit. — The mechanism 
of many of these habitual coordinations which stop just 
short of becoming entirely automatic and non-conscious, 
seems to depend upon the linking together of sensations 
and movements in a manner which may well be briefly 
described. In learning to ride a bicycle, for example, con- 
siderable groups of muscular movements are necessarily 
combined. Everyone who has gone through the experi- 
ence will probably recall that one of the early difficulties 
consisted in remembering to push downward with one 
foot at just the appropriate moment, as reported by sen- 
sations from various parts of the body, particularly from 
the knees and ankles and soles of the feet. One quickly 



56 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

learned, however, to respond to these signals and to make 
the corresponding downward thrust with the proper foot. 
As soon as this interconnection of sensations and move- 
ments is firmly established, the process of pedalling largely 
takes care of itself, and the entire attention may be given 
to learning to balance. Until this point is reached, many 
beginners find themselves with feet in the air or 'back- 
pedalling' to the entire defeat of their forward progress. 
The accompanying diagram (Fig. 20) may serve rudely 




jPiG. 20.^ — Diagram to illustrate a series of motor discharges in re- 
sponse to sensory or ideational stimulations. SI, a sensory or 
ideational stimulus; M, a motor response; Sj, a sensory dis- 
turbance occasioned by the movement M; Mj, a motor discharge 
consequent upon the stimulation Si, etc. In an act like skating 
two general sets of alternating movements may be repeated 
again and again. In such an act as signing one's name each of 
the movements may be different from the others. 

to illustrate this situation. When a movement is made, 
we become aware of it partly through the sensations which 
are aroused in the muscles and joints of the member moved, 
and partly by means of sensory effects impressed upon 
other sense organs. Either type of sensation may be used 
to serve as the signal for the next movement. In playing 
a musical instrument there are thus aroused not only sen- 
sations in the skin of the hand and in the muscles of the 
hand and arm, but also sensations of sound ; and if the 
eyes are properly directed, there may be a visual report of 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND HABIT FORMATION 57 

the movement. Any or all of these sensations may serve 
as signals for the series of movements. Where habits have 
become highly automatized, it seems probable that this same 
type of sensory-motor mechanism is employed, but that in 
some manner it short-circuits the higher cerebral regions, 
so that we are much less definitely conscious of the 
process. 



CHAPTER V 
ATTENTION 

The previous chapters have brought to the reader's notice 
the conception of life as adjustment, and have explained the 
dependence of the mental parts of the adjusting process 
upon the organization of the nervous system. We must 
now turn to a more intensive and detailed analysis of this 
process. 

Attention as Adjustment. — When an animal organism is 
subjected to a strong physical stimulus, for example, an 
acid, it instantly displays protective movements, generally 
of retreat. Such movements are obviously of an adaptive 
character. Man, under similar conditions of stimulation, 
by strong lights, extreme temperatures, loud sounds, and 
the like, also manifests adjustive responses. In this case, 
however, as we all know from personal experience, these 
adaptive reactions are accompanied by the mental state 
which we call attention. Attention is, indeed, the most 
general attitude of adjustment, and we may profitably di- 
rect our thought to certain of its more important char- 
acteristics. 

We seem to be so organized that, regardless of our mo- 
mentary occupation, any sense stimulus of sufficient vio- 
lence may force its way over the receptors and into the 
cerebral cortex, where it may displace the dominant nerv- 
ous activities and itself take possession. Such a nervous 
assault upon the brain results in our becoming aware of the 
object acting as stimulus, produces what we call attention 

58 



ATTENTION 59 

to it. Now it is an interesting fact that, as part of the 
process of attending, the action of the nervous system 
evokes certain muscular adjustments, as a consequence of 
which we become more definitely and distinctly aware of the 
stimulus. To illustrate, if a strong light strike the eyes 
from the side, there is a rotation of the eyeballs and often 
a turning of the head, as a result of which the eyes are 
put in the position of clearest and most distinct vision. 
At the beginning of the process, we may have been aware 
only of the vague but strong impression of light and color. 
As the eyes turn and we are able to see distinctly, we secure 
an impression of the luminous object which is both vivid and 
clear. Such an impression affords us, as the original pow- 
erful but indistinct impression did not, information as to 
the character of the object, and we are forthwith in a posi- 
tion to determine intelligently our next movement. 

Any strong stimulus constitutes a more or less imperious 
invitation to an adjustive response. Figuratively, at least, 
and often literally, such a stimulus is in the nature of a 
problem which we are called upon to solve. Certainly it 
presents in a fair sense a difficulty which we must sur- 
mount. The first step in the process of mental adjustment 
is always attention, and as our previous discussion has 
suggested, this adjustment will normally be found to in- 
volve motor reactions designed to put us in a position of 
more distinct and complete perception of the situation. 

Attention as an Organizing Activity. — Our ordinary 
language tends to create a somewhat misleading impression 
concerning attention, because it suggests that attention is 
a separate force or entity which may suddenly step in and 
direct our mental processes. Thus we say that attention 
wandered, or that it was concentrated, and properly under- 



60 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



stood such phrases are perfectly correct. Evidently these 
expressions imply that attention is simply preparatory 
mental and motor adjustment. It is an act, not an agent. 
It is the process in which is mentally organized whatever is 
at the moment presented. This fact is made clear by observ- 
ing that we may attend to one and the same physical object 
in a number of different ways, depending upon the manner 




Fig. 21. 



in which mentally we organize its constituents. For ex- 
ample, Fig. 21 may be attended to as a picture frame, or 
as a truncated pyramid, with the apex toward the observer, 
or as a square tunnel into which one is looking. So far as 
the physical object is concerned, the lines are in each case 
one and the same. So far as concerns the stimulation of 
the retina the situation may be wholly unchanged in the 
three instances. But our mode of attending is in each case 
quite distinct, because we organize and interpret the lines 
from three different mental points of view. 

The Field of Attention. — Psychologists have been par- 
ticularly interested in one aspect of attention about which a 
few words must be said. When one is reading, at any given 



ATTENTION 61 

moment a certain word or group of words stands out with 
greater clearness than the rest of the words on the page, 
while outside the page altogether, one may be dimly con- 
scious of objects in the outer part of the field of view. More- 
over, as one reads, ideas more or less disconnected with the 
words to which one is dominantly attentive may from time 
to time intrude themselves. This situation has been de- 
scribed by saying that the field of attention has a focus and 
a margin. The focus is comprised of whatever may be at 
the moment clearest and most distinct in consciousness. 
Outside this focal region there is a margin of indefinite 
extent, made up of materials which are decreasingly clear 
as one passes away from the focus. Observers differ as to 
the number of discernible zones of clearness. Some persons 
report only two regions, one the central region of maximal 
clearness, the other the entire remaining portion of the 
field. Others maintain that three or four or even more dis- 
tinct areas may be distinguished, differing in clearness all 
the way from the central focus through progressively dim- 
mer and less distinct regions to a margin which is essentially 
unconscious. Fig. 22 will suggest the sort of thing here 
described. 

The Range of Attention. — The conception of attention 
as a process of adjustment would lead us naturally to ex- 
pect that we should at any one instant be able to attend only 
to a small group of objects or ideas. It has often been urged 
that we can attend to only one thing at a time, and there 
is perhaps a sense in which this is true, but it involves 
recognizing the fact that this 'thing' may be quite complex, 
and may involve what under ordinary conditions we should 
regard as a number of objects. A few illustrations will per- 
haps make the matter clear. 



62 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



A person playing the piano from a printed score may 
seem to be attending to a great many different things at 
once. The eyes take in several groups of notes and then 
perhaps are quickly turned to glance at the hands and 
keyboard. In looking at the music, a considerable number 
of separate notes may be taken in at a glance, each of 
which indicates a particular movement of a particular fin- 



HO 



Tig. 22. — 1, the focal region of attention;- 2 and 3, zones of less 
distinct awareness; 4, the region of subconscious processes. 



ger, together v^ith the time value and the stress with which 
the key is to be pressed down. Such a situation appears 
to involve attending simultaneously to a large group of 
objects, but it would involve a misapprehension of the actual 
situation to suppose that in any one moment they were per- 
ceived as so many separate and distinct things. By long 
training the eye has been taught to take in groups of notes 
in a single sweep, exactly as it takes in the groups of letters 
which compose a short word. The response of the fingers 
to what the eye sees is in the same way the result of long 
and painstaking practice, and the proficient performer does 
not require to give separate attention to each movement. 
Obviously there is a very real difference between attend- 



ATTENTION 63 

ing at any one moment to a large number of objects and 
doing at one and the same instant a considerable number 
of different things. The limit of our ability to perform 
complicated simultaneous movements as a result of practice 
would be hard to set. Certainly the least skilful of us can 
master a good many such movements. But however complex 
the object to which we attend, apparently the process of at- 
tention serves to bring together into a sort of mental unit 
all the different parts. How many such parts can actually 
be united is only to be determined by experiment. Four or 
five dots placed close together on a piece of paper can be 
seen in a single glance. If they be gradually spread some- 
what further apart, it will soon be difficult or impossible 
to see them without breaking them up into successive 
groups. Similarly, six or seven, or even eight very rapidly 
succeeding sounds may be heard as a unit. If the sounds 
be given more slowly, they will begin to break up into 
smaller groups. 

There is no serious difficulty in determining by experi- 
ments what are the facts about this so-called range or 
scope of attention when we are dealing with physical 
objects. It is much more difficult to speak with certainty 
about our ability to attend to groups of ideas. When one 's 
mind is engaged upon the solution of a problem, ideas may 
flow through it with amazing rapidity, and we often speak 
as though while thinking about certain parts of a problem, 
we kept the rest of it constantly before us. Suffice it to 
say that most psychologists are agreed that the situation 
is substantially identical with that already examined in 
the case of attention to objects. However complex an idea 
may be, attention at any given instant is probably always 
occupied with one such idea and its immediate relations. 



64 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

The Duration of Attention. — This discussion leads very 
naturally to another issue which has always interested 
psychologists, i.e., how long can we attend to any one 
thought or thing ? Common opinion would lead one to sup- 
pose that we may attend almost indefinitely. Certainly 
we speak of having had this, that or the other thought in 
mind for a long time. In the same way we say, '^I have 
been watching that bird for ten or fifteen minutes," im- 
plying that our attention has been unchanged through all 
that period. In a practical sense, no doubt both types of 
statement are sufficiently accurate. But a very brief 
scrutiny of the actual facts in such cases will give us quite 
a different impression of what it is that occurs. 

Careful observation will show that what we might justly 
enough speak of as * attending to a bird ' involves in reality 
attending to an ever changing series of facts about 
the bird. We note now the color of his wings, now the 
shape of his tail, now the movement of his head, and now 
his change of position from one branch to another. If we 
attempt to focus our attention rigidly upon any single 
feature, such as the shape of his beak, suddenly and with- 
out intending it, we are noting some other feature; or, to 
our surprise, we may find that some totally disconnected 
thought has bobbed up in our minds and taken off our 
attention. In the same way, if we examine what occurs 
when our thought is supposedly riveted upon some par- 
ticular idea, we shall discover that in actual fact a great 
series of ideas has passed through our minds, each of which 
was perhaps related to the thought with which we were 
ostensibly occupied, but each of which is quite certainly 
a separate thought. In other words, our attention moves 
very rapidly and never in any literal sense lingers long 



ATTENTION 65 

in one place. How long it remains it is very difficult to 
say. Experiments would indicate that a few seconds is 
ordinarily the outside limit. 

Attention and Organized Reaction. — If we now turn 
back and recall the assertion that attention is essentially 
a process of adjustment, we shall see very good reason 
why the attentive act should tend to bring together into 
a single mental object as many as possible of the separate 
elements to which adjustment must be made. We can 
also discern a reason why attention should be relatively 
brief in its duration. 

In primitive animal conditions, adjustment implies an 
immediate response to a present situation, and generally 
a situation in which some localized stimulus demands a 
localized response. Even in the life of man, the ordinary 
sensory stimulus demanding an adjustive activity re- 
quires a localized reaction. A blow upon the hand de- 
mands an adjustment which will promptly remove the 
hand from danger. The sight of food similarly requires 
a localized type of response designed to secure it. In the 
higher animals, and particularly in man, many of these 
adjustments find their crucial significance in future re- 
actions, in delayed responses. You make a decision today 
which you cannot execute until tomorrow. In each and 
every case the reaction, whether immediate or delayed, 
must be organized to be effective, and it must have rela- 
tion to a situation which is a unit in the sense that it 
requires a particular kind of response. To attend to put- 
ting air in your automobile tires involves attending not 
to the tires in general, but to each one separately, and to 
a series of particular acts in each case — unscrewing the 
valve cap, blowing out dust, screwing on pump pipe, etc. 



66 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

In so far, then, as attention represents the first step in 
the adjustive act, we should expect to find it grouping 
together all those elements in a situation to which we can 
profitably make a single organized response. 

For much the same reason, we can understand why at- 
tention dwells so briefly on any one feature of a situation. 
It is itself the preliminary stage of psycho-motor adjust- 
ment, and its work is done as soon as it has stamped the 
elements of a situation with that kind of organized unity 
to which a response can be made. It is, therefore, quite 
inevitable that attention should move forward with con- 
siderable rapidity. That we are unable wholly to control 
its behavior in this respect can be readily shown by a sim- 
ple type of test. Put a pencil dot on a blank sheet of 
paper and try to attend to it uninterruptedly. So simple 
a thing ought readily to be retained in the focus of the 
field of attention. The reader can easily convince himself 
what actually occurs by making the experiment. An in- 
structive variant can also be tried by attempting to fixate 
for not less than a minute one of the shorter words on 
this page. 

Motor Aspects of Attention. — ^An interesting con- 
firmation of the conception of attention we are presenting- 
is found in a consideration of certain of the motor accom- 
paniments of attention. Clear vision is normally depend- 
ent upon an elaborate set of muscular acts. The eyes must 
converge and the muscles controlling the lenses must be 
innervated in order that we may see distinctly. Similarly, 
when we are listening we tend to turn the head so as to 
catch the sound more distinctly, and in the case of faint 
sounds, we hold our breath. Our animal ancestors com- 
monly turn the external ear to assist their hearing, an 



ATTENTION 67 

art which we have largely lost. Odor cannot be detected 
unless the odorous substances are drawn up into the nos- 
trils, and this is ordinarily accomplished by a vigorous 
inhalation. To get the taste of an object clearly, we press 
it with the tongue against the roof of the mouth. To de- 
tect the contours or surfaces of an object, we pass the 
finger tips over it. In all these cases a maximum of dis- 
tinctness and clearness is gained by motor activities. 

Less obvious, but not less real, and probably not less 
significant, are the motor expressions in cases where we 
are attending to ideas and thoughts rather than to physi- 
cally present objects. The facts are here more difficult 
of access, and the reader must expect to be left with less 
of certainty regarding them. A little observation, how- 
ever, will show that each of us, when thinking hard, tends 
to adopt certain bodily attitudes which are more or less 
characteristic and which seem in some way to aid the 
thinking. Some people frown under these conditions, 
others walk up and down, others wish to be seated with 
their feet up in the air. Still others bite their finger- 
nails, or tap with a pencil upon the table. Most of these 
performances are attributed merely to bad nervous habits. 
But fundamentally they are probably much more than 
that. They may well represent protective devices to guard 
the thinker against interruption, partly by putting him 
into a position of physical comfort, and partly by supply- 
ing him with a group of self-controlled but reasonably 
vigorous sensory stimulations which may perhaps serve 
to overwhelm any purely outside sensory disturbances. A 
portion of these reactions may be regarded as occasioned 
simply by the overflow of unused nervous energy, which 
might possibly be saved to advantage. There can be little 



68 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

question, however, that whatever the individual history 
by which such muscular activities have been taken on, 
their absence or suppression is a source of marked discom- 
fort and disturbance to the thinker. 

There is another group of these motor reactions be- 
longing to ideational processes which has a different and 
somewhat more obvious explanation. For many people the 
attempt to think with closed eyes of some object to the 
right or to the left will occasion a movement of the eye- 
balls in the corresponding direction. Similarly, to think 
fixedly of a sound as coming from a point behind and to 
one side will produce in some persons a strong tension in 
the muscles of the head and neck, if it does not, indeed, 
occasion an actual turning of the head. Clearly this type 
of motor expression is simply a carrying over into idea- 
tional processes, as a matter of habit, motor forms of be- 
havior which have an evident adjustive value in the case 
of sensory attention. 

It is rather the usual custom for psychologists to speak, 
as we have already once done, of these motor reactions as 
^accompaniments' of attention. In point of fact, while 
they are accompaniments in a true enough sense, it would 
be a mistake to think of them simply as companions to an 
entirely different process. It is a truer view to regard 
them as in a genuine sense merely the external expression 
of the adjusting agency which, felt from within, is atten- 
tion. 'The stretching out to meet' which is the original 
linguistic meaning of the term attention, is precisely and 
exactly embodied in these preliminary motor adjustments 
whereby we organize and in a sense determine the object 
to which we have to adjust. In the lower and more reflex 
types of reaction, this immediate motor response exhausts 



ATTENTION 69 

and completes the adjustment. In the higher and more 
conscious types of behavior, it simply sets the stage and 
determines what is the object or the situation to which in 
a larger way immediate or delayed adjustment is to be 
brought about. 

Classification of the Forms of Attention. — Various 
classifications of the forms of attention have been pro- 
posed, a few of which deserve brief mention. 

(1) An old classification distinguishes sensory from 
ideational attention, the former illustrated by any case of 
attending to sensations of color, sound, contact, and the 
like, the latter exemplified by attention to a train of 
thought. Obviously this division is based on differences 
in the objects of attention, rather than on differences in- 
side the attentive process itself. 

(2) Another distinction marks off immediate from de- 
rived attention. When a thing attracts the mind because 
of its intrinsic interest, or its capacity to excite, attention 
is immediate. When we attend because of some second- 
ary consideration, attention is derived. To attend to 
one's study because one is interested in high marks 
affords an illustration of derived attention. Attention 
to a thrilling narrative will illustrate immediate atten- 
tion. 

(3) A distinction is often drawn between active and 
passive attention. The significant points in this classifi- 
cation are preserved and somewhat improved upon in the 
division of attention into three classes (a) spontaneous, 
(b) involuntary or forced and (c) voluntary. 

Spontaneous attention is substantially synonymous 
with immediate attention and is illustrated in the atten- 
tion given by babies to bright lights and loud sounds, by 



70 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

adults to hunger, to crowds, and to innate tastes, such for 
example as music. It is undoubtedly the primitive form 
of attention, out of which the others have grown. 

Involuntary, forced, or passive attention is illustrated 
in the compulsion exercised over the mind by very intense 
sensory stimulation. One may be absorbed in a good book 
(spontaneous attention) and suddenly be shocked into a 
forced attention by a clap of thunder. Morbid ideas some- 
times intrude themselves in the same way. 

Voluntary attention (closely resembling derived) is 
represented by attention given as the result of definite 
effort. Anyone who succeeds in holding himself to 
a distasteful task exercises voluntary attention in this 
meaning of the term. This is a form of attention that 
develops whenever the mind becomes mature enough to 
appreciate and entertain two conflicting interests or lines 
of conduct. Choice must be made. One must be for the 
time at least put aside and the other encouraged. Spon- 
taneous attention early provides these competitive bidders 
for attention, and voluntary attention springs from such a 
soil. The effort to suppress disturbing appeals to forced 
attention obviously offers another field for the develop- 
ment of voluntary attention. Fortunately for our peace 
of mind, many experiences to which we attend at first 
only with effort and discomfort become after a little time 
intrinsically interesting and agreeable, whereupon we give 
them essentially spontaneous attention. 

Analysis and Synthesis in Attention. — Attention sub- 
serves two great functions which psychologists have com- 
monly designated (1) analysis, discrimination, or dis- 
sociation, and (2) synthesis, or association. Every act of 
attention in a sense involves both of these processes, al- 



ATTENTION 71 

though at any given moment one or the other generally 
seems to be dominant. 

As the reader's eye passes across this page he will, in 
the very act of reading, necessarily separate the printed 
letters into words to which he attends either singly or 
in groups. That his attention is given to the separate 
words at all instead of to the shape of the page, the color 
of the paper, the details of the background against which 
the book is seen, is a consequence of the fact that out of all 
the possible objects before his vision he has selected those 
special parts which correspond to the words, and has in 
turn given his attention to them in their context rather 
than in isolation. At any given moment, vast numbers of 
stimulations are attacking the various sense organs. 
Sounds, colors, contacts of various kinds, are simulta- 
neously impressed upon ear, eye, and skin; and yet we 
are aware of only a trifling fragment of all these stimuli. 
The organism selects from out this great range of possible 
objects of attention those which shall at any moment be 
heeded, and neglects the rest. From the descriptions which 
have preceded, the reader will readily comprehend that 
the clue to an understanding of why certain objects are 
chosen for attention and others neglected is to be found in 
the demands for adjustment. The adjustive process can 
hardly be carried out in response to objects in general. It 
requires that now this element in the situation and now 
that shall be given consideration. The primitive form of 
analysis, discrimination, or dissociation, is simply the iso- 
lating of a particular portion of the environment to which 
an organized motor reaction can be brought to pass. One 
cannot adjust to visual things in general, but one may 
make a movement of the hand designed to grasp some par- 



72 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tieular visual object. Similarly one cannot adjust success- 
fully to a miscellaneous jumble of sounds, but one can 
step back to avoid the annihilation foreshadowed by the 
screech of an automobile horn. 

It should be fairly obvious from these illustrations and 
the dozens of others which will readily suggest themselves, 
that effective guidance of an organism amid the vicissi- 
tudes of a physical and social world such as that in which 
we live, necessitates such a selective analytical process as 
we have described. Every act of attention, when scruti- 
nized, will easily be seen to involve this same type of dis- 
crimination, this same breaking up into parts of the great 
complex world of objects, with their various appeal to 
smell, taste, touch, sight, and hearing. Our illustrations 
have all been chosen from instances of adjustment to 
sensory situations ^ but the same dissociative or analytical 
process is to be discerned in our attention to ideas of all 
kinds. This fact is peculiarly evident in cases where we 
are thinking intently in the attempt to solve some difficult 
problem. In such a case, our thinking is often directed to 
the analysis of the thoughts which present themselves. 
The more intimate description of these ideational processes 
will be taken up later after a study of some of the simpler 
phases of our mental organization. 

Contrary to the formerly accepted views, the prevalent 
opinion of psychologists today is that the consciousness of 
the new-born child, and presumably that of the simpler 
organisms, is characterized by a somewhat vague blending 
or fusion of many elements, like colors and sounds, which 
to the adult appear clearly separate and distinct. The 
transition from the conditions of infancy to intellectual 
maturity is in large measure dependent upon the execu- 



ATTENTION 73 

tion of these acts of discrimination and analysis just de- 
scribed. 

Conditions of Discrimination. — ^We know with great 
certainty that colors are at first distinguished from one an- 
other by babies imperfectly or not at all. There is similar 
evidence for believing that the components of many sounds 
are thus undistinguished; and in general there is good 
reason to suppose that at the outset of life an indefinite 
number of sensations may fuse together, provided only 
that the stimulations occasioning them fall simultaneously 
upon the sense organs. Even in adult life certain of these 
fusions persist in the most obstinate manner. Apparently 
only those sensations separate which are forced to do so 
by the exigencies of adjustment. For example, owing to 
the proximity of the sense organs and the character of the 
stimuli affecting them, it comes about that a large propor- 
tion of the food substances stimulate both the organs of 
taste and those of smell. The supposedly characteristic 
tastes of many familiar beverages and foods are as a mat- 
ter of fact due to sensations of smell and not to taste at all. 
Coffee, tea, onions, apples, and asparagus lose almost all 
their more agreeable and individualistic features, if by 
reason of a cold or by artificial stoppage of the nostrils, 
one is prevented from getting any odor sensations. Other 
instances c^ fusions which persist even in adult life may 
readily be found in the combinations with one another of 
pressure and tem|)erature sensations from the skin, and of 
both with sensations of movement originating in the mus- 
cles, tendons, and joints. 

We have already mentioned the belief that only such 
sensations separate as are forced to do so, but the condi- 
tions under which such dissociation may be brought about 



74 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

remain to be stated. If a sensation or group of sensations 
is to be separated out from a larger matrix so that we may 
adjust to it independently, it is apparently necessary that 
it shall be experienced alone or in a different group. We 
may express this in a symbolic way by supposing that three 
sensations, x, y, and z, occur together. The principle 
formulated would require that if x is to be successfully 
analyzed out of the compound it shall be either experi- 
enced alone or in some other group, such as xrs. In the 
case of colors, for example, this would mean that if red, 
blue, and green were always experienced together, they 
would presumably never be differentiated, and the pre- 
condition of their dissociation from one another is that 
they shall be experienced singly or in other combinations. 
If we translate this formula into terms of nervous activity, 
we shall see that it means that we can only discriminate 
differences when the nervous circuits involved are differ- 
ent. Obviously the changing conditions in the physical 
world must speedily bring about the necessary variety in 
the combination of sense stimulations required by this 
theory of analysis in order satisfactorily to explain our 
actual success in discrimination. It need hardly be 
pointed out that at an early stage of its development the 
human organism, at least, secures the power to bring 
about artificially many of these conditions of changed 
stimulation by its control over its own movements. It is 
thus possible, for example, by pinching the nostrils, to cut 
off the larger part of our odor sensations and thus experi- 
mentally to split up the smell-taste fusion to which we have 
referred. 

Reciprocal Relations of Association and Dissociation. 
— Every process of analysis may from one point of view be 



ATTENTION 75 

thought of as an act of synthesis or association. The men- 
tal process by which one distinguishes the black and white 
colors on this page is one in which, by the very nature of 
the case, the two qualities thus distinguished are brought 
together and associated with one another. Analysis and 
synthesis are, therefore, conjoint processes involved in 
every act of attention. Nor does this tell the whole story. 
"When one gives his attention to a word on this page, his 
mental act unites into a single mental whole, each of the 
letters which goes to make it up. The process of dissociat- 
ing the word from the rest of the field of vision is one 
whereby the components of the word are also integrated 
into a single object. It will be found that this conception 
is applicable to all types of organic adjustment. 

Analysis and synthesis, association and dissociation, are 
thus, as it were, the two blades of the scissors which we 
call attention. Both are invariably involved in every at- 
tentive act. Sometimes we are more interested from the 
practical point of view in analysis ; sometimes in synthesis. 
But in either case our actual mental procedure depends 
upon the employment of both. 



CHAPTER YI 
SENSATION 

In the account of adjustive processes we have constantly 
referred to the fact that man is supplied with sensitive 
organs which are capable of responding to various kinds of 
physical stimulations. Light, heat, sound, contact, are 
illustrations of the stimuli to which the organism is able 
to react. No doubt there are many forms of physical 
action to which we are entirely insensitive. Magnetism 
is an example of such a force, for which we have no appro- 
priate receptor. Connected with the use of these sense 
organs, are the most rudimentary of our mental processes, 
and it is therefore natural that we should begin our more 
exact analytical study of the mind at this point. 

The Development of Sense Organs. — If we turn to 
evolutionary history, we find that our equipment of sensory 
organs presents a most interesting picture of the develop- 
ment of highly specialized senses out of a very crude 
general sensitivity. The simpler organisms, like the 
amoeba, are more or less sensitive to the various forms of 
stimulation which affect human beings, e.g., light, tempera- 
ture, contact, but there are no specific sense organs of 
any kind. As we pass up the scale in animal life, we find 
the rudimentary vestiges of the specialized organs which 
later become the eye, the ear, and the other senses. These 
present the most varied assortment of devices for accom- 
plishing their purposes. The eye, for example, which makes 

76 



SENSATION 77 

its first appearance as a little pigmented speck on the sur- 
face of the organism, passes through a great number of 
different forms before it takes on the character of the 
highest vertebrate eye, like that of man, with its system of 
lenses for bringing light to a focus upon the surface of 
the retina. There is, moreover, very considerable varia- 
tion in the structure of the eye in different vertebrate 
forms like the fishes, the birds, and the mammals. 

The other sense organs display a similar evolutionary 
history, although some of them, like the ear, have de- 
veloped very much further away from their primitive 
forms than have others, such as those of contact and tem- 
perature. We may conveniently begin our study of the 
sensory processes with vision. 

The Organ of Vision and Its Stimuli. — A complete 
knowledge of vision implies a detailed acquaintance with 
the anatomy and physiology of the eye.' Evidently, under 
the present conditions, we must forego any exhaustive 
study of the subject, and content ourselves with relatively 
rough impressions such as can be secured in the time at 
our disposal. 

The stimulus to vision consists normally of light waves 
constituting the sunlight spectrum from red to violet. 
These waves vary in rate from approximately 435 to 769 
billions a second. An electrical current passed through the 
head will also produce sensations of light, as will a violent 
blow. The light stimulations are classified as either homo- 
geneous or mixed. Homogeneous light is made up of 
waves of approximately equal vibration rate and equal 
length, and is represented by the pure colors of the spec- 
trum, such as red, blue, green. Mixed light finds its most 
frequent exemplification in the ordinary white light of the 



78 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

r ^ ^ 




Fig. 23. — Opt., fibers of the optic nerve entering the back of the 
eyeball to spread over its inner surfaces; Fov. c, fovea cen- 
tralis, the point of most acute vision in the retina on which are 
centered rays of light from any object at which one is looking. 
The retina contains only cones in this region. Scler., the 
sclerotic coat, tough and opaque, transformed on its anterior 
surfaces into the transparent cornea. Chor., the choroid coat, 
carrying blood vessels and a heavy dark pigment. Ret., the 
retina, terminating at a little distance from the lens. Pr. cil., 
the cilary muscle processes which control the convexity of the 
lens. The ligament in which the lens is suspended may be 
seen at the left of the sketch just under the letter " p," which 
marks the posterior chamber behind the iris and Cam. ant., 
the anterior chamber, both filled with aqueous humour. Corpus 
vitreum, the humour of the main cavity of the eyeball. Conj., 
the conjunctiva, a very thin mucous membrane. (After James.) 



SENSATION 79 

sun. As a matter of fact, there is always under ordinary 
conditions of vision an appreciable amount of mixed light 
even when we are looking at the simple colors. To the 
homogeneous lights we owe, then, the various distinguish- 
able hues of the spectrum (each one corresponding to a 
particular wave length or vibration rate), and to mixed 
light the series of colors from white through gray to 
black. The amplitude of the light vibration determines the 
intensity of the resulting sensation. 

Figure 23 represents a vertical section front to back 
through the center of the human eye. It reveals, with 
reasonable clearness, all the more important structures. 
The eye is a roughly spherical camera, into which light is 
admitted through a small aperture at the center of the 
front surface. The general form of the eye is preserved 
by the sclerotic coat, the tough outer covering of the eye, 
which is transparent on its front surfaces, known as the 
cornea. Inside it is the choroid, a dark pigmented coat 
absorbing light rays and carrying many blood vessels. 
The rays of light are bent or refracted by the spherical 
surface of the cornea and again by the surfaces of the 
lens, so that they come together upon the retina, lying just 
inside the choroid, to form a well-defined image, such as 
appears on the photographic plate of a camera when the 
lens is properly focused upon its object. Unless this 
image is clear and sharp, vision will be blurred. In the 
photographic camera, the focus is adjusted by moving the 
plate toward, or away from, the lens, as may be required. 
In the eye, the distance between the lens and the plate, i.e., 
the retina, is fixed and unchangeable. The focusing is in 
this case brought about by an extremely ingenious device. 
The lens is an elastic, gelatinous structure of spherical 



80 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

form, enclosed in, and suspended by, a very thin trans- 
parent membrane. This bag-like membrane is attached to 
muscular tissue on the inner surface of the eye-ball. By 
the . contraction or relaxation of these muscles the mem- 
brane is rendered more or less taut. As a result of this 
change of tension, the lens is made more or less convex, 
more or less spherical in shape. Anyone familiar with the 
manner in which lenses bend or refract the rays of light 
passing through them will understand that this changing 
convexity permits the securing of clearly focused images 




Fig. 24. — Sketch to illustrate the mechanism of accommodation. A, 
the lens accommodated for a near object, its anterior surface 
advanced ; B, the lens at rest, accommodated for a distant object. 
G, the ciliary muscles controlling the ligament, L., supporting 
the lens; c, the cornea; 6, the anterior chamber; D, the vitreous 
humour of the main cavity of the eyeball. (After McKendrick 
and Snodgrass.) 



on the retina, just as readily as is the case in the photo- 
graphic camera, where, the lens remaining stationary, the 
plate is moved to and fro. The more convex the lens, the 
more sharply the rays are bent, and the more quickly they 
come to a focus. As an object approaches the eye, the lens 
must become more and more convex, if the image of the 
object is to remain sharply focused upon the retina. (See 
Fig. 24.) 

The Retina. — The central part of the retina, upon which 
these images fall, is kno^vn as the fovea, and is the region 
of clearest vision in the eye. It is characterized by a slight 



SENSATION 81 

depression and the presence of a slightly yellowish pig- 
ment. From the fovea toward the lens, the retina becomes 
progressively less capable of* affording clear, distinct 
vision. 

As the sketch indicates (Fig. 25), the fibers of the 
optic nerve enter the eye-ball from its rear surface, and 




Fig. 25. — Scheme of retinal fibers. Nop, optic nerve; 8, sclerotic; 
Ch, choroid; R, retina; P, blind spot, no retinal structure 
present; F, fovea, point of clearest vision. The retinal fibers 
are shown turning back to 'meet the pigment layer of the 
choroid. The light coming in through the cornea, lens and 
optic humours, passes through the optic fibers before it reaches 
the rods and cones on the inner surfaces of the retina. (James 
after Kuss.) 



there spread themselves in cup-shape, all over the surfaces 
of the inner part of the eye. The fibers turn toward the 
outside of the eye, and terminate in the very complex struc- 
ture constituting the retina, of which Figure 26 gives a 
vertical cross-section. The actual sensitive organs which 
the light stimulates after passing through the optic fibers 
and the inner parts of the retina are the so-called rods 



82 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



and cones, whose shapes explain the names given them. 
In the fovea, cones alone are found. In the forward re- 
gions of the retina near -the lens, the rods are practically 
alone. In the intermediate regions, both rods and cones 
are found. 




Fig. 26. — The layers of the retina. A, layer of rods and cones next 
the choroid; a, rods; 6, cones. E, layer of large bipolar nerve 
cells; Q, layer of large ganglion cells; E, layer of optic nerve 
fibers over which nervous impulses travel toward the brain after 
light has stimulated the rods and cones; s, a centrifugal nerve 
fiber permitting impulses to reach the retina from the brain. 
Unlike other sense organs, the retina is itself really a portion 
of the brain, pushed out to the periphery of the body. 



In the very center of the region where the optic nerve 
enters the eye-ball there is no retinal structure, and in 
consequence no vision. This is the blind spot, whose pres- 
ence can be easily verified by closing the left eye, fixating 



SENSATION 83 

the other upon a pencil point held some ten or twelve 
inches directly in front of the face while one moves a 
small object, like a coin, slowly to the right away from the 
pencil. When about three or four inches away from the 
point fixated, the object will suddenly disappear, a mo- 
ment later to appear again. 

The retina is sensitive to colors in a curiously irregular 
way. Under ordinary daylight conditions, only the cen- 
tral parts of the retina in and immediately about the 
fovea are capable of reporting all the colors to us. In 
most individuals the regions lying thirty or more degrees 
^f arc away from the fovea are incapable of giving us 
sensations of red and green. These two colors, when 
they fall upon the outer margins of the retina, are seen 
as yellowish, bluish, or grayish, as the case may be. Then 
there comes a zone in which yellow and blue, and their 
compounds, together with white, black, and gray, are 
seen, and finally there is a narrow band in the extreme 
anterior part of the retina where all colors are seen as 
white, black, or gray, or not seen at all. Meantime, al- 
though these peripheral parts of the retina are relatively 
deficient in color vision, they are very sensitive to white 
light and to movement of any kind. Stars can often be 
seen in 'indirect vision' by these peripheral parts of the 
retina, where the rods predominate, which are invisible by 
direct foveal vision, where the cones are in charge. 

Binocular Vision. — We have two eyes, and vision is a 
binocular process. Although under some conditions we see 
objects double, normally we have single vision, and we 
must say a word about the conditions which produce this 
result. Each eye is controlled by six muscles, by means of 
which it is moved right and left, and up and down. The 



84 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



controlling muscles are so adjusted that the eyes always 
move upward or downward together. They may converge, 
that is, turn in, at the same time, but they may not diverge 
beyond the position at which their axes are parallel. The 
practical upshot of these limitations upon the movements 
of the eyes is that when the gaze is fixed upon a given 






Fig. 27. — The two lower circles represent the retinal surfaces of the 
two eyes as seen from behind. F is the fovea, B, the blind spot 
where the optic nerve enters the eye. The retinae are divided 
into four quadrants. Each quadrant corresponds to its geo- 
metrically (not anatomically) similar quadrant in the other 
eye, which bears the same number. The nasal half of one 
retina corresponds to the temporal half of the other. Cor- 
responding points whose stimulation produces single vision are 
located in geometrically similar quadrants. 

The upper part of the diagram represents the eyes fixated on the 
point F whose images fall on the two foveal regions ff and 
produce single vision. is the optic nerve. Rays of light 
from such points as E and D fall on the corresponding points 



SENSATION 85 

point, the rays of light proceeding from it are brought to 
a focus upon the fovea of the two eyes, and the image of 
the entire object at which one is looking is distributed 
over each retina in such a way that geometrically similar 
regions are stimulated by rays from any given point. 
Single vision apparently results wherever this occurs. 
Figure 27 will illustrate the statement just made. If 
the retina of the right eye were lifted, moved across, and 
without rotation superposed upon the retina of the left 
eye, quadrant UN would be over quadrant UT, quadrant 
LT over quadrant LN, etc. A pin put through any part of 
any quadrant would then mark what are known as cor- 
responding points, and these are points which when stimu- 
lated together normally produce single vision. The stimu- 
lation of other points produces either double vision or 
blurred vision. No doubt the fact that approximately one 
half of the fibers of the optic nerve of each eye cross over 
and join fiber tracts from the corresponding region of the 



ee and dd and also produce single vision. Such a line as EFD, 
or it may be a surface, all of whose points are seen as single, 
is known as a horopter. When the eyes are fixated on F, 
points like B and G, which lie respectively behind and in front 
of F, are seen double. The rays proceeding from them will 
be found in non-corresponding quadrants of the retinae at 6& 
and cc. The rays from B fall at h and 6 which are both inside 
the foveal points, whereas e and e are both outside these points. 
The former produce ' homonomously,' the latter ' heteronom- 
ously,' doubled images. 

If in the experiment suggested on page 86 an assistant pass a 
screen in front of one of the eyes, the double image on the 
same side as the screen will disappear when the nearer object 
is fixated. This is the case of a ' homonomous ' image. The 
image on the side opposite to the screen {i.e., heteronomous ) 
will disappear when the farther object is fixated. 

Such a figure as the prism EJD illustrates in an extreme form the 
facts of binocular stereoscopic vision. The right eye sees only 
the surface JD, the left eye only EX. The figure as seen by 
both eyes appears as a solid. Ordinarily there is a field com- 
mon to both eyes as in looking at a sphere. 



86 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



other eye on their way to the occipital cortex of the brain 
(Fig. 28) bears on this matter of single vision from cor- 
responding points. If one holds up two pencils in the 



rFL 



NFR 




LO RO 



Fig. 28. — Diagram of the optic pathway. R, the right eye, L, the 
left; T, Ti, N, N^ the temporal and nasal halves respectively 
of the left and right retinae; TFL, the temporal field of view 
of the left eye, seen by the nasal half of that eye; NFR, the 
nasal field of view of the right eye seen by the temporal side 
of the retina; C, the optic chiasma; OFR, optic fibers from the 
right half of each retina (i.e., right temporal, left nasal) pass- 
ing through LOG, the lower visual centers in the geniculate 
bodies and the corpora quadrigemina, to RO, the occipital cor- 
tex of the right half of the cerebrum, OFL, fibers from the 
left halves of the two retinae proceeding similarly to LO, the 
left side of the cerebral occipital cortex. Obviously destruc- 
tion of one side of the visual cortex, or of the optic pathway 
anywhere above C, will produce blindness to one half of the 
field of view (hemianopsia) by destroying vision in one half of 
each retina. (Modified from Seguin.) 

median plane of the face, one about four inches from the 
eyes and the other fifteen or twenty, it will be very easy 
by fixating the further pencil, to see the other one double. 



SENSATION 87 

Fixation of the nearer one will similarly produce doubling 
of the further one. In this case, the images of the doubled 
object are falling upon dissimilar regions of the two 
retinae. 

Classification of Color Sensations. — Turning now to a 
more immediate analysis of the color qualities of vision, 
we remark at once that our optical sensations fall into 
two great natural groups, to-wit, those of the achromatic, 
or black-white-gray series, corresponding to mixed light 
waves, and those of the chromatic series, i.e., the spectral 
colors, from red to violet, corresponding to pure homo- 
geneous waves." Psychologists and painters have varied 
somewhat in their view regarding the number of so-called 
elementary colors. It was early observed that by taking 
a few primary colors, all the others could be produced 
through mixture, but one is by no means rigidly confined 
to one group of colors in selecting these 'primes.' More- 
over, the results which one secures depend very largely 
on the methods chosen for making the mixtures. Yellow 
and blue, if mixed in certain pigments, produce green, 
whereas if they are mixed by reflection or by rotating 
disks, they produce gray. 

Common language recognizes seven distinct shades in the 

^ A curious phenomenon sometimes made the basis of a classifi- 
cation of visual processes is found in the difference between 'twi- 
light' and daylight vision. When the spectrum is viewed in full 
sunlight, the brightest region is in the yellow. When, however, by 
remaining for a time in the dark the retina has been adapted to 
very subdued lights, the green and the blue appear brighter than 
the yellow; and if the light is progressively made dimmer, the blue 
end of the spectrum can be discerned after the red end has dis- 
appeared. Seen in a faint light, therefore, the spectrmn appears as 
a series of bands of gray with the brightest region in the green- 
blue zone. 



88 



AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 



sunlight spectrum, i.e., red, orange, yellow, green, light 
blue, indigo blue, and violet. Psychologists have generally 
maintained that there are only four genuinely different 
colors in the spectral group, to-wit, red, yellow, green, and 
blue. Orange is alleged to be an obvious compound of 
red and yellow. Violet is held to be similarly an obvious 
compound of blue and red. When one adds a little more 
red, one procures a shade of purple, and if the process be 
continued, the blue is finally altogether overcome, and we 
get back to red. Moreover, each of these spectral hues 




Fig. 29. — The color pyramid. The line WB corresponds to the 
white-black series of colors; the plane Bl.RYG represents the 
most saturated spectral colors, e.g., blue, red, green. The 
lines joining W and B with the letters representing the several 
spectral colors, e.g., Bl. represent all the transitional tints from 
blue through pale blue to white, and all the shades through 
the dark blues to black. (After Ebbinghaus.) 



may be more or less 'saturated.' We can thus start with 
red and by adding more and more white produce a series 
of pinks, or by adding increasing amounts of black, we 
can produce a series of deepening browns. Figure 29 
exhibits these relations. It will be recognized, too, that 



SENSATION 89 

colors vary in brightness as well as in saturation and 
chroma or hue. 

Whatever view be taken regarding the number of the 
elementary spectral qualities, there are some very inter- 
esting relations among them which definitely affect our 
color vision, and to which brief reference may be made. 

Color Mixtures. — When colored lights (not pigments)' 
are mixed together, new colors are produced in accordance 
with definite principles which can be formulated. For 
example, red and yellow will produce orange, blue and red 
will produce violet or purple, and all the combinations 
can be readily ascertained. One of the most interesting 
of these * mixtures is that of the so-called complementary 
colors, which when combined produce gray. Every color 
in the spectrum has a complementary, also in the spectrum, 
except green. Yellow, if combined with blue, produces a 
whitish gray when pigmented papers rotated on a color 
wheel are used as the source of the colors. Red and blue- 
green similarly produce gray, but green must be combined 
with colors from the two ends of the spectrum, i.e., red and 
blue, or violet. Figure 30 exhibits these relationships 
graphically. 

Color Contrast. — There are other color phenomena which 
also serve to show the intimate relations of these comple- 
mentary colors to one another. Color contrast is one of 
these. If a patch of yellow be placed beside or upon a field 
of blue, and the eye be focused upon a point where the two 
join, it will presently be noticed that along the margin of 
junction the two colors are ver}^ much more brilliant and of 
deeper hue than elsewhere. The reason for this will be ex- 

^ Pigment mixtures produce different results. They depend on the 
effects of light absorption and can of course be formulated. 



90 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

plained in a moment in connection with a brief account of 
after-images. Meantime, if instead of placing the yellow 
in immediate contact with blue, some other color, like red, 
or green, be selected, a different and less intense result is 
produced. The maximal effect of this kind is produced 
by complementary colors upon one another. This type of 



RED 




'FlQ. 30. — Colors at opposite ends of any diameter of the circle pro- 
duce gray, if mixed with one another. Purple, which is the 
complementary color to green, is not found in the spectrum, 
but is produced by a mixture of the end-colors of the spectrum, 
red and violet. Colors opposite blank segments are alleged to 
be psychologically pure and elementary; i.e., they do not sug- 
gest other colors. Some colors like orange distinctly suggest 
other hues, e.g., in this case red and yellow. Colors opposite 
shaded segments are of this composite character. 

<»ontrast is sometimes spoken of as successive contrast, the 
eye passing from one color, which has been fixated, on to 
another. The visual quality of the latter is sure to be 
affected by the preceding retinal stimulation. 

Simultaneous contrast is a name for a color phenomenon 



SENSATION 91 

less often observed in ordinary experience, but in some 
ways much more striking when encountered. If two small 
patches of the same gray paper be placed the one upon a 
blue field and the other upon a yellow field, the first will 
take on a yellowish, and the other a bluish tinge. If a thin 
piece of white tissue paper be spread over both colored 
surfaces, it will be quite impossible to convince any un- 
informed observer that the patches are actually pure gray, 
much less thait they really match one another. This 
tendency of a colored surface to induce a complementary 
shade upon any small colorless area within its boundaries 
gives striking evidence again of the interdependence of 
complementary colors. 

After-images. — It is true in the case of all the senses 
that a stimulus exercises an effect upon the sense organ 
which somewhat outlasts its actual contact with the organ. 
Vision affords the most conspicuous instance of this fact 
in the so-called after-images, which ought, perhaps, rather 
to be called 'after-sensations.' These are of two main 
kinds, the positive and the negative. If the eye be closed 
for a few moments, and then opened and fixated for an 
instant upon an electric light, and at once closed again, 
there will be seen for some little time thereafter a distinct 
image of the light, and at first with an intensity only 
slightly less than that of the objective sensation. This is an 
example of the positive after-image. It takes its name 
from the photographic positive plate, in which the relations 
of light and shade and color are as in the object itself. 
The positive image is due simply to the continuation of the 
retinal excitement after the removal of the stimulus. The 
negative image involves a reversal of these light and 
color relations. If the eye be fixated upon a point in the 



92 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

center of a small red field for fifteen or twenty seconds, 
and then turned upon some neutral colored field, or closed, 
there will presently . emerge a bluish-green image cor- 
responding to the red object originally fixated. In gen- 
eral it will be found that in the negative image all colors 
are complementaries of the colors in the stimulus, and the 
relations of light and shade will be inverted; what was 
light in the object will be dark in the after-image, and 
vice versa. 

Color-Blindness. — Attention was called at an earlier 
point in the chapter to the fact that the peripheral por- 
tions of the normal retina are more or less color-blind. 
Some persons suffer from a form of color-blindness which 
affects the entire retina. This is a difficulty which seems 
much more common in men than in women. It is hardly 
practicable to describe pathological color-blindness in de- 
tail at this point. Suffice it to say that in one of the com- 
moner types the spectrum is seen as half yellowish and 
half greenish. The region of the green itself is in these 
eases often seen as gray. Persons belonging to this group 
are said to be red-green blind. In general, it may be added 
that like the peripheral color-blindness of the normal eye, 
pathological color-blindness suggests that the color pairs 
red and green, blue and yellow, and black and white, re- 
spectively, belong together as more or less distinct parts 
of color vision. 

Theory of Color Phenomena. — Many different theories 
of the color sense have been propounded, but there is as 
yet none which enjoys universal acceptance. In the 
writer's opinion, the theory of Mrs. Ladd-Franklin is 
preferable to any of the others at present available, be- 
cause it presents fewer conflicts with recognized facts. It 



SENSATION 93 

may be said, indeed, that all the theories are simply at- 
tempts to formulate the several varieties of facts in a 
mutually consistent way. 

Mrs. Franklin assumes that vision was originally con- 
fined to the qualities we now call gray, with white at one 
extreme and black at the other. The outer regions of the 
retina still represent this primitive condition. As evolu- 
tion prooeeded, the chemical substance in the retina which 
originally occasioned our sensations of gray has been dif- 
ferentiated so that it now is stimulated by the various 
spectral colors, each of which produces a partial dis- 
integration of it. The first differentiation which occurred 
corresponds to the sensations of yellow and blue. It will 
be recalled that these colors are seen pretty well out 
toward the anterior regions of the retina. The last dif- 
ferentiation corresponds to the colors red and green, which 
are seen over a relatively circumscribed central region. 
This red and green process she thinks of as having de- 
veloped out of the older yellow process. The explanations 
of the several forms of color phenomena resemble in many 
particulars those proposed by other theorists. We may 
formulate some of them very briefly. 

Color mixture is brought about by the disintegration of 
one or another part of the chemical substance in the retina 
whose action directly stimulates the rods and cones. For 
example, when red and blue are combined, the result, i.e., 
purple, corresponds to a splitting off of the red part of the 
red-green process and a similar splitting off of the blue 
of the yellow-blue process. The gray of complementary 
colors is brought about by the entire disintegration of the 
original visual substance, just as occurs when white light 
itself is seen. If, for example, yellow and blue are mixed, 



94 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

each color disintegrates a part of the original color sub- 
stance. The two together effect a complete disintegration 
of it. After-images of the positive kind simply represent, 
as in all theories, the continuation of the original effects 
of the stimulus. Negative after-images are explained by 
assuming that after the eye has been stimulated for a 
considerable time by a color like blue, and one portion of 
the color molecules in consequence has been shattered, 
there is a tendency, after the blue is removed, for the rest 
of the molecular process to go to pieces in its turn. In 
this particular ease the secondary part of the process rep- 
resents yellow. Consequently the after-image for blue is 
yellow. Successive contrast is of course simply an after- 
image effect. If the eye has been fatigued for yellow, and 
is then turned to look at blue, the blue is seen as deeper and 
more vivid than otherwise, because there is a combination 
of actual objective blue with a negative after-image blue. 
Contrast phenomena are assigned to the progressive break- 
ing down of the chemical substances, probably assisted by 
the capillary circulation. The gray patch in a yellow field 
is seen as bluish, because the molecules which the circula- 
tion carries across the retinal region corresponding to the 
gray are already disintegrated as regards yellow and are 
xindergoing the process of disintegration which is seen as 
blue. 

Auditory Sensations. — Psychologists have been wont to 
divide auditory sense experiences into two great groups — 
noises and tones. This is to be regarded as a convenient 
working division, rather than as implying any hard and 
fast distinction. It so happens that the sounds which we 
call tones arise from regular, periodic vibrations of the 
air, while noises arise from non-periodic vibrations. 



SENSATION 95 

Nevertheless, most tones have some accompaniments of 
noise, ^and many noises present a distinctly tonal char- 
acter. The sounds of a piano are primarily tones, but 
the striking of the hammers upon the wires produces al- 
most inevitably a noise which is heard with the tone. The 
rumble of cart wheels in the street is a noise, but at a 
little distance there is often a definite impression of tone. 
Certainly one notices the change in pitch as such a noisy 
vehicle disappears in the distance. 

Pitch, Intensity, and Quality of Tones. — There is a 
relatively simple relation between our experiences of tone 
and the physical stimulations occasioning them. Thus the 
pitch of a tone corresponds to the frequency of the vibra- 
tions. We begin to hear these vibrations as tone when 
they occur at the rate of about sixteen or twenty to the 
second, and we cease to discern them as tones when they 
exceed forty or fifty thousand to the second. Most of our 
musical experiences are comprised within a relatively 
brief compass, running from about sixty-four vibrations 
in the second to some four or five thousand. 

While pitch corresponds to the rate or frequency of 
vibration, the intensity of a tone corresponds to the ampli- 
tude of the vibration. The tone quality corresponds to 
the form of the sound wave, as determined by the number, 
character, and relative intensity of the partial tones which 
are present. German writers, in particular, speak of tones 
as clangs, and distinguish between simple and complex 
clangs. English writers sometimes speak of pure and mixed 
tones, or simple and complex tones. All these terms are 
designed to apply to the same set of facts, i.e., that a tone 
may arise from a vibration of a single rate, as in the case 
of a tuning fork, or from a group of vibrations made up 



96 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

of a fundamental tone with a series of partial tones. In 
the case of a stretched string, for example, like a piano 
wire, or a violin string, there are vibrations corresponding 
not only to the entire length of the string, but also to 
segments of one-half, one-quarter, one-third, etc., of the 
length of the string. Each of these segments occasions a 
separate tone which blends with the others, and the quality 
of the entire mass of sound will depend upon the number 
of these partial tones, or over-tones, which are present, 
whether they harmonize or not with one another, and how 
strong each is in relation to the others. The peculiar tone 
quality of different instruments, e.g., the piano as con- 
trasted with the cornet, or the flute, is entirely dependent 
upon this composition of the sound waves given off. 

The ability to analyze complex tones, or chords, depends 
upon the capacity to pick out the constituent tones which 
enter into one of these complex tonal masses, and the 
ability to differentiate and identify familiar combinations 
of tones and noises depends on this same trait. The human 
voice is made up of both noises and tones, and spoken 
language illustrates this fact in the most precise way. 
The vowels are essentially tonal elements of speech. The 
consonants are intrinsically noises. Each individual voice 
represents a peculiar and characteristic combination of 
these two elements. 

The Auditory Sense Organ. — Although the main facts 
and the general principles involved in the anatomy and 
physiology of the ear are quite capable of simple formula- 
tion, the minute anatomy is extremely complicated and 
difficult to follow. We can accordingly make no pretense 
of any such detailed exposition. 

The ear consists of three main divisions (see Fig. 31) ; 



SENSATION 



97 



(1) the external ear, of which the conch and part of the 
so-called meatus or passage is visible; (2) the middle ear, 
a wedge-shaped cavity with the broad edge of the wedge 
above, the sharp edge below, and the long axis roughly 




Fig. 31. — Diagram of ear. A, auditory canal of the external ear; 
B, tympanic membrane separating the external from the middle 
ear, O; D, Eustachian tube leading from the middle ear to the 
throat; E, one of the semicircular canals of the internal ear, 
arising out of the utricle upon which, as upon the adjacent 
saccule, fibers from the vestibular branch of the eighth nerve 
are shown terminating. The region of the internal ear op- 
posite the end of the stirrup bone is known as the vestibule. 
F, the spiral of the cochlea, through the central pillar of which 
the auditory nerve is shown entering to spread out toward the 
hair cells of the cochlear canal, as indicated in Figures 32 and 
35; (r, the main trunk of the eighth nerve. (After Hough and 
Sedgwick. ) 

parallel with the sides of the head. From this a tube 
leads down into the throat. At the point where the ex- 
ternal meatus opens into the middle ear a Idrge membrane 



98 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

fills up the passage. To the center of this membrane is 
attached the first of a chain of three bones extending from 
it across the cavity of the middle ear to an aperture in 
the inner surface of the chamber, which opens into (3) 




c n 



Fig. 32. — Vertical section through the bones containing the cochlea; 
en, the main trunk of the cochlear nerve; g, ganglion; st, scala 
tympani; 8v, scala vestibuli; c, cochlea canal. (After Gray.) 



^M^,^ 



SC 




EC 



PC 



B 



Fig. 33, A and B. — Sketch of left bony labyrinth viewed from outer 
side. In B part of the bones are cut away to show the internal 
cavities. 0, cochlea; >Sf(7, superior semicircular canal; EC, ex- 
ternal canal; PC, posterior canal; AM, ampulla of canal; 0, 
oval window into which stirrup bone fits; R, round window 
opening into the middle ear; &T, scale tympani, connected with 
R; SV, scala vestibuli, connected with 0. (After Cunningham.) 

the internal ear. This last is a very elaborate system of 
tunnels or cavities in the solid bone of the skull, lined 
throughout with an extremely irregular membranous sac, 



SENSATION 99 

filled with fluids and supported upon appropriate bony 
structures. Inside the sac are mounted innumerable little 
hair cells, whose bases are in connection with the minute 
terminations of the sensory nerve. See Figs. 32, 33, 34, 35. 
When a sound wave reaches the ear, it first throws into 
vibration the drum membrane separating the external 
from the middle ear. Attached to the center of this mem- 



S U 




sc 



Fig. 34. — Diagram of membranous labyrinth [supported within the 
bony labyrinth shown in Figure 33], filled with lymph and sur- 
rounded by it. C, cochlea; 8, saccule, united by a small duct, 
with TJ , the utricle, out of which spring the semicircular canals, 
/8fC The connection of the nerve with the end organs in the 
membranous labyrinth is indicated in Figure 31. (After Cun- 
ningham. ) 

brane is the first of the chain of bones, whose motion is in 
turn transmitted to the other two bones in the chain, and 
thence by the impact of the latter upon the liquid (found 
both outside and inside the membranous sac) of the in- 
ternal ear, vibrations are set up which stimulate the tiny 
hairs of the hair cells. Ai this point originate the nervous 
impulses which, traveling back up the auditory nerve, 
finally reach the auditory cortex of the cerebrum (see 
Fig. 13), whereupon a sound is heard. 

The Semicircular Canals. — The vestibular portions of 
the internal ear (see Figs. 31, 34) may possibly have to do 



100 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

with the perception of noise, though this is very doubtful, 
but the semicircular canals are organs for the detection of 
bodily movement and for the preservation of balance. 
They have no real auditory function at all. In the primi- 
tive ear we find a rude sac Avith little pebble-like otoliths 
which, when the organism is moved or jarred, strike against 
the sensitive walls of the sac and so give a sensory warning 
signal. In man and the higher animals this organ has dif- 
ferentiated into two — the one the cochlear structure we 
have described, sensitive primarily to air vibrations outside 




Fig. 35. — Diagram of a cross section of one of the whorls of the 
cochlea. S.T., scala tympani, a lymph-filled passage leading 
from a round window, closed by a membrane, in the wall of the 
middle ear. This membrane permits some movement to and 
fro of the liquids of the internal ear, when vibrations are set 
up in them by the air waves coming in through the external 
and middle ear. S.V., scala vestibuli, a channel leading from 
the oval window in the wall of the middle ear into which the 
base of the stirrup bone is inserted. These two passages, 8.T. 
and S.V., join one another at the top of the cochlea. CO., the 
lymph-filled canal of the cochlea, separated by R.M., Reissner's 
membrane, from the scala vestibuli and by B.M., the basilar 
membrane, from the scala tympani. TJI., the tectorial mem- 
brane thought by some authorities to be the body which re- 
sponds by sympathetic vibrations to the waves produced in the 
endolymph of the ear by external sounds. The theory assumes 
that the membrane strikes against ths tips of the hair cells 
and thus sets up nervous impulses in the auditory nerve. Most 
authorities think that the basilar membrane serves this func- 
tion and transmits its vibrations directly to the hair cells rest- 
ing on it. I.H.C. and O.H.C., inner and outer rows of hair cells 
respectively; S.C., supporting cells; R.C., rods of Corti; A.N.. 
auditory nerve. (Modified from Stewart.) 



SENSATION 101" 

the organism ; the other the semicircular canals and the ves- 
tibular apparatus, sensitive to gross movements of the en- 
tire body. The three canals have developed approximately 
at right angles to each other and corresponding to the three 
main planes of the body. Each is presumably most sensi- 
tive to movement of the body in one of these planes. Like 
the vestibular arrangement, they retain the old otolith de- 
vice. These otoliths are suspended in the liquids of the 
membranous sac and when the head or body is moved 
quickly, they lag somewhat behind and come into contact 
with the hair cell terminals found in these regions, as well 
as in the cochlea. This sets up a sensory impulse, which, 
instead of passing to the auditory cortex and so occasioning 
a sensation of sound, is conveyed over quite a different 
pathway to cerebellar and other centers and 'thence to cer- 
tain muscle groups — of the eyes, the head, and trunk — and 
compensatory movements are released tending to preserve 
bodily equilibrium. 

It is doubtful whether under normal conditions the 
semicircular canals produce any sensations of which we 
are directly conscious. But if they be violently stimulated, 
as in rapid whirling, w^e are made dizzy. We thus learn 
of their action through the sensations of vision and con- 
tact and movement, which they reflexly stimulate, rather 
than directly by a conscious quality of their own. There 
is no question of their practical importance, for if diseased, 
they cause dizziness, loss of balance, and general disturb- 
ance of motor coordination. 

Gustatory Sensations. — As the result of a good deal of 
discussion and experimentation, psychologists have come 
generally to agree that there are four, and only four, ele- 
mentary qualities of taste, i.e., salt, sour, sweet, and bitter. 



102 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Some observers would add to this list metallic and soapy 
tastes. They are often combined with one another and 
with sensations of temperature, contact, smell, and move- 
ment. By means of such combinations we have a very 
large number of characteristic tastes of foods and bever- 
ages which are, however, capable of analysis into these 
constituents. Lemonade in its ordinary forms obviously 
involves sour, sweet, cold, and contact. Coffee involves 
bitter, sweet, heat, and contact. Both involve odor to a 
degree that the uninformed person is utterly unaware of. 
Everybody has observed that when suffering from a cold 
in the head the tastes of foods are apt to be dulled. This 
is commonly attributed to the direct effect of inflamma- 
tion and congestion of the membranes of the mouth. In 
point of fact it is much more largely due to the sup- 
pression of sensations of smell. By blindfolding the eyes 
and stopping the nostrils, it will be found that the aver- 
age individual is quite at a loss to identify many of the 
common food substances, and if the further precaution be 
taken of reducing them to fluid form and presenting them 
at the temperature of the mouth, it will be found that 
only the four qualities already mentioned can as a rule be 
detected, and even for them there is often great uncertainty. 

There are several kinds of evidence tending to confirm 
the really elementary character of these four tastes. One 
of them is indicated in the suggestion above. If the 
stimuli are all made of uniform temperature, and reduced 
to fluid form with the elimination of smell, there is almost 
never a tendency to mention any other kind of taste qual- 
ity. These four seem to every observer adequate. 

It is commonly supposed that the various taste sensa- 
tions may be experienced on any part of the tongue. As a 



SENSATION 



103 



matter of fact, the center of the tongue is very little sensi- 
tive to taste, and the marginal regions difPer decidedly 
from one another in the kind of sensitivity possessed. 
(Fig. 36.) Thus the tip of the tongue is peculiarly sensi- 
tive to sweet and salt, the sides to sour, and the base to 
bitter. It is a curious fact, suggesting the existence of 
special receptors for the different kinds of sense qualities, 




Fig. 36. — Surface of tongue seen from above. The taste buds in 
which the gustatory nerves terminate lie mainly in the walls 
of 1 and 2, the circum vallate papillae, and 3, the fungiform 
papillae. (After Schafer.) 

that some substances produce a very different taste upon 
different parts of the tongue. At the tip, saccharine is ex- 
tremely sweet, at the base it tastes bitter. There are some 
indications also of interrelations of an intimate kind be- 
tween the elementary qualities. Thus there are drugs 
which if applied to the surface of the tongue will paralyze 
the sensitivity for bitter and sweet without affecting the 
other tastes. 



104 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

The Gustatory Sense Organ. — In order that a substance 
may be tasted at all, it must be presented in liquid form, 
and no solid, if taken into the mouth, can be tasted unless it 
is soluble by the saliva. The reason for this seems easy 
to understand when it is remembered that the receptors 
for taste stimuli terminate at the base of very minute cell 
structures shown in Figs. 37, 38, 39, which lie imbedded in 
deep crevices in the walls of certain papillae. Direct con- 
tact with these organs is thus rendered quite impossible ex- 
cept for a fluid. As has been pointed out in the preceding 
paragraph, these papillae, whose form differs considerably 
in different regions of the tongue, are distributed over 
the sides, tip, and base, the center of the tongue being 
substantially destitute of them. There are some taste 
nerves occasionally found in the cheeks and in the neigh- 
borhood of the palate. Attention has already been called 
to the fact that what we commonly designate taste is in 
point of fact a fusion of smell, taste, temperature, con- 
tact, and movement. The tongue is very richly inner- 
vated with receptors for contact, pain, temperature, and 
movement. 

Olfactory Sensations. — Sensations of smell are, as we 
have noticed, intimately connected with those of taste. 
This connection is undoubtedly very ancient and repre- 
sents the fundamental importance of these two senses as 
guardians of the food supplies in primitive animal con- 
ditions. Despite this intimate connection, smell presents 
some very striking contrasts to taste. The taste qualities 
are few in number and relatively easy to isolate. Smell, 
on the other hand, presents an almost endless complexity 
of qualities, which can at best be grouped together in cer- 
tain roughly separable classes. The taste qualities appear 



SENSATION 



105 



to be connected in a general way with anatomically dis- 
tinct regions. Smell, so far as can be detected, offers no 




Fig. 37. — Vertical section of circumvallate papilla of a calf. A, 
the papilla; n, the gustatory nerve fibrils terminating in and 
about T, the taste buds. (After Engelmann.) 




Fig. 38. — Vertical section through a taste bud. 1, gustatory cells 
with hair-like terminals; 2, supporting cells. (After Cimning- 
ham.) 





Fig. 39. — Diagram of the cells found in a taste bud. a, gustatory 
cells; h, supporting cells. (After Cunningham.) 



106 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

topographical differentiation. The stimulus to taste must 
be a fluid. The stimulus to smell must be a gas, or at all 
events, finely divided particles suspended in a gas such 
as the air. 

The accompanying table contains the grouping of smell 
qualities which is now most generally employed as a work- 
ing division. It is a modification made by the Dutch 
physiologist Zwaardemaker of an older table proposed by 
the botanist Linnaeus. 

1 — Ethereal smells, including fruit odors. 

2 — Aromatic smells, e.g., camphor, spice. 

3 — Fragrant smells, e.g., such flowers as violets and 
sweet peas. 

4 — Ambrosiac smells, e.g., musk. 

5 — Alliaceous smells, e.g., garlic, chlorine. 

6 — Empyreumatic smells, e.g., burning tobacco, burnt 
toast. 

7 — Hircine smells, e.g., cheese. 

8 — Virulent smells, e.g., opium. 

9 — Nauseous smells, e.g., decaying animal matter. 

The difficulty of grouping odors or of reducing them 
to a small number of elementary types is suggested by the 
fact that the ordinary method of designating them in- 
volves either a reference to the names of the objects from 
which they come (e.g., lemon odor, the odor of roses, etc.) 
or characterizing them by adjectives borrowed from taste, 
as when we speak of a sweet odor or a sour odor, or finally, 
grouping them as agreeable or disagreeable. 

Olfactory Sense Organ. — Receptors for smell terminate 
about the bases of little hair-like or thread-like cells im- 
bedded in the mucous membrane of the upper portion of 
the nasal cavity. (Fig. 40.) Unlike most sensory termi- 
nal organs these cells are apparently themselves true nerv- 



SENSATION 



107 



ous tissue. The general location of this olfactory mem- 
brane may be seen in Figure 41. This figure shows graphi- 
cally how in gentle breathing the air currents may pass 




Fig. 40. — Isolated cells from olfactory region of the rabbit; sf, sup- 
porting cells; s, short, stiff cilia, or, according to some authori- 
ties, cones of mucus resembling cilia; r, r, olfactory cells. (Mc- 
Kendrick and Snodgrass after Stohr.) 




Fig. 41. — Diagram to show the location of the olfactory end-organs 
and the course of the air currents when we breathe. 0, the 
olfactory membrane of the right nostril into which the olfac- 
tory nerve comes do^v^l through the bone above. The black 
line, numbered 1, indicates the usual course of the air in 
natural breathing. The lighter line, numbered 2, indicates the 
course of the air when we inhale strongly. (Modified from 
Zwaardemaker. ) 



up through the nostrils and into the lungs without coming 
into violent contact with this olfactory region. In vigor- 
ous inhalation, on the other hand, the currents of air are 



108 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

drawn up sharply against the membrane and we secure 
vivid and distinct sensations. 

As in the ease of taste, but to a less degree, there is 
uncertainty regarding the exact cortical terminations of 
the smell nerves, but the best modern knowledge is em- 
bodied in Figure 14, opposite page 36. 

Cutaneous Sensations. — It is usual to speak as though 
the skin were itself a sensitive organ, and it is of course 
true that we feel the various kinds of stimuli which come 
in contact with it. But in strictness, the skin is simply a 
protective covering within whose deeper layers the real 
receptors are imbedded. By common consent, pressure, 
heat, cold, and pain are mediated by skin sensations. 
Ordinarily two or more of these are aroused together by 
the usual forms of stimulation, and as a matter of fact 
there are generally added the kinaesthetic sensations aris- 
ing from muscular movement. Thus, if I reach out my 
hand and grasp the book lying upon the table, I obtain 
sensations of contact, of temperature, and of movement. 
If I burn myself, I secure simultaneously sensations of 
heat and pain. 

Contrary to the usual impression, these various forms of 
sensitivity are not distributed evenly over the entire bodily 
surface. The skin presents a sort of mosaic, with points 
sensitive to one kind of stimulation interspersed between 
points sensitive to other forms, and with adjacent points 
insensitive to all kinds of stimuli. Of course if a stimulus 
be made sufficiently intense, almost any region will re- 
spond. Nevertheless, the statement just made is essen- 
tially true. (See Fig. 42.) 

If a blunt metal point, even a pencil point, be cooled and 
then be gently passed over the skin of the back of the 



SENSATION log 

hand, there will be spots where a perfectly distinct flash 
of cold will be felt, and other spots on which either con- 
tact alone or nothing at all will be sensed. A similar re- 
sult will be encountered if the point be slightly heated. 
Warmth will be clearly sensed now and then, but will be 
found quite lacking at other points. The spots sensitive 
to pressure are more numerous than those sensitive to 
warmth and cold of moderate degree. More numerous 
than either are the spots sensitive to painful pressure. 




Fig. 42. — C, cold spots; H, hot spots from an area on the back of 
the wrist. Similar spots sensitive to pressure and to pain 
respectively have been charted. (McKendrick and Snodgrass 
after Goldscheider. ) 

like that of a needle. There are some regions, like the 
cornea of the eye, on which practically only pain sensa- 
tions can be aroused. Oddly enough, there are some re- 
gions which seem quite insensitive to pain from puncture. 
There is a region of this kind on the inner surface of the 
cheek. The sensitivity differs very widely on various 
surfaces, as is illustrated, in the case of contact or pres- 
sure, by the tip of the tongue, the tip of the fingers, and 
the skin just above the elbow. The first two surfaces are 
sensitive to differences much more minute than those 
which can be sensed by the last mentioned region. A 
simple demonstration may be made by lightly touching 



no AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

three such regions with a pair of compass points set a 
quarter of an inch apart. A similar type of disparity 
characterizes the distribution of sensitivity in the case of 
the other skin senses. 

Cutaneous Sense Organs. — Although the evidence is 
not as yet absolutely conclusive, there is strong reason to 
believe that the receptors for the different kinds of sensa- 
tion mentioned have each a different type of terminal 
organ. Figure 43 exhibits the different terminals now 
plausibly regarded as the receiving devices for the differ- 
ent kinds of cutaneous stimulations. 

The cortical receiving stations for these various sensa- 
tions [with the possible exception of pain, which is perhaps 
represented in the thalamus] are pretty well localized, as 
shown in Figure 13, in the region posterior to the fissure 
of Rolando. The close proximity to the great motor zone 
(an arrangement suggestive of that in the spinal cord) 
must not be overlooked, and will not be thought strange 
when one remembers that these cutaneous experiences are 
probably the most primitive and ancient of organic life. 
Behavior in its earliest forms was in considerable measure 
simply motor adjustment in response to stimulations of 
the cutaneous type. 

Kinaesthetic Sensations. — ^We have frequently had 
occasion to refer to sensations of movement. Psycholo- 
gists generally refer to these as kinaesthetic. There has 
been little successful effort to analyze them, and isolation 
is particularly difficult because they occur almost without 
exception in conjunction with other kinds of sensation. 
Various illustrations have been given from time to time 
of these combined kinaesthetic and cutaneous sensations. 
When one moves the hand, there is almost inevitably a 



SENSATION 



111 



H.L, 




A x; 




Fig. 43. — A, diagrammatic cross section of the skin showing H.L., 
the horny layer or epidermis, C.L., the clear layer, G.L,, the 
granular layer, M.L., the mucous layer, P.L., the papillary 
layer, forming the outer border of the dermis; N.E., nerve end- 
ings, and N.T., the trunks of the nerves. B, diagrammatic cross 
section of the skin showing a hair and the nerve winding about 
its base; H., the hair; H.L., horny layer of the epidermis; N., 
nerve trunk, mediating contact sensations, with terminals, T., 
about the base of the hair. C, a tactile corpuscle of Meissner. 
AX., the axonic processes wrapping about the tissue of the cor- 
puscle. A.C., naked axis cylinders. D, end-bulb of Krause, 
possibly organ of sensations of cold. AX., axones entering the 
bulb; N.F., naked axone fibers; T.C., so-called touch cells; C.T., 
connective tissue of the skin. E, Pacinian corpuscle, probably 
concerned in contact sensations; AX., axone entering the cor- 
puscle with axis cylinder terminations at A.C.; C.T., connective 
tissue. F, Ruffini's nerve endings, possibly mediating warmth 
sensations; AX., axones; T.O., terminal organs; C.T., con- 
nective tissue. The free nerve endings, thought to mediate pain 
sensations, have no terminal organ; the fibers simply thin out 
to a point, or blunt end, and stop. (Modified from Cunningham, 
Retzius and Toldt.) 



112 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

stretching of the skin so as to produce a pressure sensa- 
tion, which tends to fuse with the kinaesthetic or motor 
sensations, thus confusing, or at least obscuring, somewhat 
the characteristic quality of the motor sensation itself. 
It is the general view today that these kinaesthetic sensa- 
tions are due to the stimulation of receptors which termi- 
nate in the muscle surfaces, or in the insertions of ten- 
dons and ligaments, or in the cartilaginous surfaces of 
joints. Obviously, under ordinary conditions the sensa- 
tions from these three sources would tend to fuse because 
they practically always occur together. However difficult 




Fig. 44. — Termination of sensory nerve in a tendon; AX., axone; 
T., tendon; T.O., terminal organs. (Modified from Morris.) 

of isolation and analysis, there can be no doubt that the 
sensations of this group play an extremely important part 
in our control over our movements. But of this more will 
be said at a later point. 

Kinaesthetic Sense Organs. — Figure 44 illustrates the 
type of terminal organ for the kinaesthetic receptors. The 
central receiving station in the cortex is by clinicians 
located in the post-Eolandic region along with the cuta- 
neous group of sensations. 

Organic Sensations. — One group of sensory experi- 
ences remains to be described. These are designated in a 
general way organic sensations. To this group strictly 
considered should be assigned the kinaesthetic sensations, 



SENSATION 113 

because like the general class of organic seiisations, they 
are caused by changes occurring inside of the organism. 
It is convenient, however, to distinguish the kinaesthetic 
group from the others, despite this common property of 
intra-organic origin. Ordinarily sensations of touch, 
taste, smell, vision, and hearing are aroused by objects 
outside the body. 

Illustrations of these organic sensations are such ex- 
periences as arise from respiration and circulation. The 
consciousness of feeling choked or stifled when the air is 
close is an instance of this kind. The congestion of the 
head when one is ill affords another example. Hunger, 
thirst, and nausea, are still other instances. Dizziness 
mentioned in connection with the semicircular canal func- 
tions is sometimes included. The list is a rather long one, 
and need not be given in detail here. The reader can 
doubtless supply many other illustrations. 

Receptors for Organic Sensations. — The receptors for 
some of these experiences are not well identified, but in 
general they no doubt belong to the cutaneous and kin- 
aesthetic type. In many of them pain is represented, and 
in these cases presumably the receptor is similar to that 
already described for painful cutaneous experiences. The 
cortical receiving stations are also problematical, except 
in so far as the sensations are identifiable with those of 
kinaesthesis and the cutaneous sensation group. 



CHAPTER VII 
SENSE PERCEPTION 

Sensation and Perception. — Throughout the previous 
chapter, we have discussed the adjustive sensory processes 
with regard to the different kinds of stimuli which arouse 
them, the different qualities of sensation which are called 
forth, and the peculiar structure of the sense organs and 
nerves upon which they depend. Psychologists often 
speak of sensations as mental elements, because they are 
apparently simple qualities which resist further analysis, 
just as do oxygen and the other chemical elements. Sen- 
sations are supposed to combine with other kinds of men- 
tal elements called simple feelings, to be mentioned later, 
to produce mental compounds such as we shall deal with 
from this point on. 

We now pass to another phase of these sensory activities, 
which psychologists commonly call perception, defined by 
James as "the consciousness of particular material objects 
present to sense." While it is true that these objects seem 
in a certain sense to be simple combinations of sense quali- 
ties, nevertheless what we see when we open our eyes is 
not the mere color quality green, but green leaves, green 
grass, and other green objects. Similarly, when we hear 
sounds, our immediate perception is of a street car, or of 
a locomotive whistle, or of a class bell. Each of these 
sounds has its own peculiar sensation quality as noise or 
tone, but the immediate reaction upon hearing any one 
of them involves our identification of the sound in the 

114 



SENSE PERCEPTION 115 

manner mentioned. The perception conveys meaning to 
us. It involves our apprehension of some at least of the 
relations sustained by the object to other objects, e.g., its 
direction, distance, etc. The other senses will all illustrate 
the same thing. We perceive a book in part by the im- 
pressions of contact and temperature which come from the 
hand as we grasp it. We perceive a violet by its odor, 
even though we cannot see it. However meager the sen- 
gory data with which we are supplied, in each case we 
tend to perceive an object with a more or less definite 
fringe of relations. It is, then, to an analysis of certain 
features of these perceptual operations that we must next 
proceed. 

As contrasted with sensation, in the psychologist 's mean- 
ing of the term as the consciousness of sensory quality, 
perception is relatively more real and more concrete. To 
get at a sensation of color involves our abstracting it from 
the general complex in which it is imbedded. The color 
of a ribbon may thus be considered apart from the special 
texture of the fabric in which it appears and apart from 
the other colors surrounding it. We can only direct atten- 
tion to the color itself by thus disregarding all the other 
accompanying circumstances. In perception we have a 
mental state in which we apprehend a group of sensory 
qualities as an object, in this case the ribbon. To be sure, 
as was pointed out when discussing attention, the very 
process by which we perceive one object involves our dis- 
regarding more or less all other objects. Even here, then, 
there is a certain sort of abstraction and isolation. But 
from the common-sense point of view sense perception gives 
us the real objects of daily life, the tables and chairs, cats 
and dogs, sticks and stones of every-day experience. 



U6 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Organization of Sensations in Perception. — As an ad- 
justive process, perception represents very distinctly an 
organization of sensations into units such that we can make 
practical motor responses to them. An apple, as a mere 
matter of sensation, appeals to touch, sight, smell, and 
taste, to mention no other possibilities. As a perception 
all these qualities are centered in the object to which by 
extending the hand we can make an effective and satis- 
factory response. As compared with animals, human 
beings undoubtedly make far less use of smell, and prob- 
ably much less of taste, as guides to their larger bodily 
reactions. Vision, hearing, and contact afford the pre- 
dominant foci of human perceptions. 

Part Played in Perception by Previous Experience. — 
We saw in an earlier chapter that constant modification is 
taking place in our reactions by virtue of our ability to 
carry over from one moment to the next that which we 
have learned. This fact is perfectly obvious in all the 
instances of gross general behavior, such as the learning of 
a new motor habit like skating. The same principle 
applies, however, to perception as to all other conscious 
processes. To the plain man it seems obvious that what 
he perceives when he looks across the room and sees a 
square-topped table is simply that which is before his eyes. 
As a matter of fact what he perceives is in no sense merely 
that which is physically present to his retinae, but a much 
more complex object and one which in certain particulars 
differs essentially from that presented to his eyes. To 
take but a single feature of the situation : if he be standing 
across the room, as assumed in the illustration, the table 
top which he sees as square, — that is, with four right 
angles and equal sides — is projected on his retinae as a 



SENSE PERCEPTION 117 

figure with two obtuse and two acute angles. If he really 
saw simply what is optically before him, he would per- 
ceive a figure of the rhomboid type, and not a square at 
all. The truth of this statement becomes apparent the mo- 
ment one tries to draw a table as seen from such a position. 
If one uses actual right angles in the sketch, the drawing 
will be a failure. Moreover, when one looks at a polished 
wood or metal surface, as in a case like that of our illus- 
tration, one gets something of the feelings of smoothness, 
coolness, and hardness, all of which are tactual qualities 
that somehow fuse with the visual impression. A percep- 
tion may thus involve sensory qualities belonging to other 
sense organs than that directly stimulated at the moment. 
It is sometimes said that we see what we expect to see, 
or what we are accustomed to see, and this is true in a 
much more intimate and thorough-going way than is ordi- 
narily appreciated. We tend to interpret every sensory 
stimulus, like the table top, in terms of our previous ex- 
perience of similar objects, and for the most part we 
assume that that sort of perception which is most con- 
sistent with all our experiences of the object in question 
presents its Hrue' or 'real' form. Language is a par- 
ticularly striking instance of the effects of experience upon 
our perceiving. The words of a strange language may 
strike upon the ear in absolutely the same fashion in which 
they do at a later period after the language has been mas- 
tered. The sensations elicited in the two cases may really 
be to all intents and purposes identical; but the percep- 
tions are radically different. In the first instance we hear 
simply a melange of meaningless sound; in the second, 
experience furnishes a whole host of interpretative mean- 
ings which are entirely missing in the first case. What 



118 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

we perceive at any given moment is quite as much de- 
termined by our momentary interests, by our past ex- 
perience and the modifications which it has impressed upon 
the nervous system, as by the particular object physically 
present to our senses. 

Perception and Illusion. — Certain illusions, which are 
simply erroneous perceptions, furnish additional evidence 
of the dependence of perception upon preceding experi- 
ence.^ The figure (45) sketched on this page, like that on 




Fig. 45.— (After Gordon.) 

^ Illusions may be roughly grouped as arising ( 1 ) from habits, 

(2) from expectancy, and (3) from sense organ structure. (1) We 
perceive a rumbling noise as a distant train because that is a 
common source of such a sound. In the present case it may be 
thunder. (2) We waken in the night, fear burglars and distinctly 
hear footsteps — which are as a matter of fact simply the sounds 
of the creaking of boards caused by wind or change of temperature. 

(3) Figure 47, page 127, exhibits illusions which belong at least in 
part to this group. 

Like illusions, hallucinations are false perceptions, but in this case 
apparently no external physical stimulus is present. They may be 
due to derangements in the sense organs or in the cerebral cortex. 
They are common in certain forms of insanity and may involve any 
of the senses. 



SENSE PERCEPTION 119 

page 60, may be seen in at least three different ways. The 
figure may be perceived as a pile of cubes with black sur- 
faces uppermost, or as a cornice which one is looking at 
from below, or finally — though this is difficult to observe 
for more than an instant — as a flat mosaic of black, white, 
and gray diamonds. The reader will note that in each 
case the retinal stimulus is absolutely identical, and yet 
three quite distinct objects are perceived. Clearly this 
result can only be explained by the fact that one 's previous 
experience affords the three different contexts for one and 
the same set of lines. Which particular group shall be 
brought into action at any one moment is evidently more 
or less accidental. Typographical errors are overlooked 
by the ordinary reader ui^less they are very serious, be- 
cause he sees what he is in the habit of seeing, and not 
what is really before him. Thus the error in the phrase 
'Pacific Ocaan' will by many readers be entirely unnoticed. 
The extent to which these perceptual reactions acquire 
meaning from previous experience should make it clear 
that the organization of sensation which is represented, is 
in large measure embodied in the cortical neurones. To 
perceive a couple of dozen lines as a pyramid of cubes in- 
volves the arousal in an organized and systematic fashion 
of large groups of cerebral nerves, and it is evident that 
the type of motor reaction appropriate to dealing with the 
pyramid experience would be decidedly different from that 
required by the cornice experience. The organization, 
therefore, of our sensations exhibited in perception is re- 
flected in a corresponding organization of motor response. 
The two things go together. Both are subject to the gen- 
eral principle of habit, which we discussed rather fully in 
Chapter IV. 



120 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Perception of Time and Space. — ^Perception not only 
gives us our contact with the physical world of objects, 
but it is also the channel through which we gain our 
knowledge of space and time. It is sometimes said that 
all our perceptions come to us imbedded in time and 
most of them in space. Gur common phrases sug- 
gest that we perceive both time and space just as we 
perceive objects. Philosophy has from the earliest times 
busied itself with the attempt to understand the ultimate 
nature of these two forms of experience. We must try to 
steer clear of the more metaphysical aspects of the prob- 
lem, but we can hardly forego some slight study of the 
psychology of the processes. Our adjustments to our sur- 
roundings occur in a medium of both time and space, and 
the effectiveness of our reactions is largely conditioned by 
our ability to make intelligent allowance for these 
factors. 

Space Perception and the Several Senses. — There has 
been some controversy among psychologists as to whether 
all of our senses are capable of mediating experiences of 
space. Vision, touch, and Jhe kinaesthetic sensations have 
generally been accepted as self-evident sources of space 
perception. The other senses, and particularly hearing, 
have been the chief centers of discussion. William James, 
for example, was wont to maintain that all sensory experi- 
ence is 'voluminous.' He held that certain sounds are 
massive, and others thin and fragile. Similarly, he main- 
tained that some odors are big and expansive as compared 
with others. Taste is hardly a profitable source of discus- 
sion, because it is compromised by its connection with con- 
tact and temperature. The precise meaning of the contro- 
versy can perhaps be better understood after we have 



SENSE PERCEPTION 121 

analyzed some of the conspicuous features in the percep- 
tion of space. 

In animal life, and particularly in its lower stages, the 
adjustment to space relations hinges very largely upon the 
factor of direction. The creature needs to go in the gen- 
eral direction of its food supply and needs to retreat from 
locations where its enemies are found. Another important 
capacity, from which the sense of direction has perhaps 
developed, is the ability to localize stimulations upon the 
bodily surfaces. Behavior of this type, as when a frog 
lifts one of its legs to wipe off an injurious substance from 
its body, obviously involves a form of spacial adjustment. 
The perception of distance and the perception of shape 
and size are presumably somewhat later acquirements, 
although many of the lower animals seem to have a 
relatively accurate ability to estimate distances near at 
hand. 

If we consider first the capacity to detect direction, i. 
is fairly clear that vision, touch, movement, hearing, and 
smell may all serve us with varying degrees of accuracy, 
and that possibly taste would also be found in this group 
if it could be separated from touch. If we are to make 
the detection of direction our criterion, we can hardly 
deny spacial character to any of our sensations, at least 
not if we permit the cooperation of movement. But when 
we turn to the other factors mentioned we find ourselves 
led to quite a different conclusion. 

Visual objects clearly have shape and size, and these 
qualities we perceive quite as truly as we perceive the 
objects possessing them. Indeed, in a sense they are one 
and the same. But who would ever think of the possi- 
bility of perceiving a square sound, or a round odor? 



122 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOaY 

Certain psychologists maintain, to be sure, as we have 
already implied, that some sounds are larger than others, 
some odors more voluminous. Thus the sound of a bass 
drum is alleged to be bigger than the shrill whistle of a 
fife, and the odors of garlic, onions, and illuminating gas 
are thought of as more pervasive, more space-occupying 
than the odors of violets, sandalwood, and lemons. 

There are certain obvious sources of possible confusion 
in such supposed evidence as has just been advanced. In 
the case of the bass drum, there is to be mentioned the in- 
tensity of the sound, which has as one of its results a 
more or less general bodily jarring which naturally con- 
veys an impression of bigness. Associated with this is often 
our knowledge of the majestic proportions of the instru- 
ment from which the noise proceeds. One or both of these 
factors are likely to affect our impressions of the volume 
of the sound. But even admitting the strong suggestion of 
spacial character which the sound brings us, no one would 
undertake to describe the shape of such sounds, or to 
estimate their exact size with reference to other sounds. 
One sound may be louder than another, that is, more in- 
tense, and we often venture to estimate the relative in- 
tensity of such sounds, but measures of their size and 
shape one never undertakes. 

Exactly the same kind of consideration may be urged 
about odors. Undoubtedly we find them suggestive of 
spacial qualities, and we certainly localize them more or 
less accurately. But the complete list of spacial character- 
istics, including size and shape, which are so clearly fea- 
tures of the visual-touch-movement space experiences, are 
certainly lacking. We can hardly, then, deny to them 
whatever of space character belongs to the ability to dis- 



SENSE PERCEPTION 123 

cern direction, but we can certainly not attribute to them 
the full quota of space properties. 

We must now turn back to examine in more detail the 
important peculiarities of the several senses as media of 
space perception. 

Space Perception from Smell. — Apart from its vague 
suggestion of space relations, to which we have already re- 
ferred, human beings secure through smell only very crude 
impressions of direction. If we wish to identify the direc- 
tion from which an odor is coming, it is almost essential 
that we should turn the head in this direction and that 
until we have determined at what point the odor is most 
intense. Whether the human sense of smell has suffered 
atrophy or not in the evolution from our animal ancestry, 
there can be no question that at the present time many 
animals excel us hopelessly in the accuracy and delicacy 
with which they make use of this sense. 

Auditory Space Perception. — In even greater degree, 
perhaps, than smell, hearing conveys suggestions of many 
kinds of space relations, but its only unequivocal spacial 
function is the determination of direction, in which it is 
distinctly superior. Within certain limits, to be described, 
we can localize sound promptly and with a measure of 
accuracy. This capacity is dependent in largest part on 
the fact that we have two ears and that sounds often 
come to us in such a way as to stimulate one ear more 
strongly than the other. This is obviously true of all 
sounds except those in the median vertical plane of the 
body at right angles to the line joining the ears. In this 
plane localization is extremely inaccurate, and with closed 
eyes an inexperienced person is generally quite unable to 
determine whether sounds are in front of, or behind, the 



124 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

head, and whether they are high, up or low down. On 
the other hand, sounds originating from points on either 
side of this plane and a few degrees outside of it are 
localized instantly and with great confidence as to the 
side from which they come ; but it is often extremely diffi- 
cult, without the assistance of vision, or without movement 
of the head, to determine whether the sound is somewhat 
in front of, or somewhat behind, the line joining the 
ears. 

The ease or difficulty of these localizations is related in 
part to the character of the sound itself. While with nor- 
mal individuals there is never any difficulty in determin- 
ing from which side a sound comes, the accuracy of the 
localization as regards the more exact position is far 
higher with noises and with complex tones than it is with 
simple tones, like those of a tuning fork. The reason for 
this seems to be that the overtones of noises and complex 
tones are so affected by the conch of the ear (some being 
reinforced and some dampened) that they sound differ- 
ently when heard, for example, at a point somewhat to 
the left and in front of the face and when heard at the 
left but toward the back of the head. Pure tones, being 
devoid of overtones, are not thus affected and therefore 
cannot be so distinguished. 

In practical daily life we are able to estimate the dis- 
tance of sounds as well as their direction. But this is a 
faculty which is very unreliable except where we are 
familiar with the sounds. It is easy enough to demonstrate 
that with the eyes closed a very faint sound near at hand 
is readily confused with a stronger sound further away. 
Gently sounding tuning forks afford the most convincing 
and ready proof of this fact, and everybody must at one 



SENSE PERCEPTION 125 

time or another have been deceived into thinking some 
faint sound, like the hissing of a steam radiator, was some 
distant object, in this case perhaps a locomotive blowing 
off steam. 

Visual Space Perception. — In point of range and deli- 
cacy of spacial perception vision easily surpasses any of 
the other senses. Its range in distance is limited only by 
the clearness of the air and the curvature of the earth's 
surface. It detects direction instantly and accurately. It 
enables us to judge with great precision both the size and 
shape of objects. Thanks to the binocular nature of the 
sense organ we get a direct visual experience of solidity, 
for the right eye sees a part of a solid object, such as a 
pencil, hidden from the left eye, and vice versa. The 
stereoscope takes advantage of this fact and presents photo- 
graphs which exaggerate this feeling of depth because they 
are taken from positions further to the right and left re- 
spectively, than those normally occupied by the eyes in 
looking at the object. 

Although most of our judgments of visual distance are 
probably influenced by experiential factors involving 
touch and movement, the eye has its own mechanism for 
detecting distance changes, to-wit, alterations in the mus- 
cular sensations of convergence and accommodation, the 
former depending on the movements of the external mus- 
cles of the eye, the latter on the ciliary muscles controlling 
the lens. The size and distinctness of the retinal image 
also gives us a clue. The nearer the object the larger 
and more distinct the image. If we know the size of the 
object, we can estimate the distance; and conversely if 
we know the distance, we can estimate the size of the 
object. The accuracy of such estimates of course varies 



126 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

with different conditions. Figure 46 illustrates the essen- 
tial relations involved. 

We also learn very readily to judge of distance relations 
by light and shade effects, as seen in the contours of a dis- 
tant roof. Color aids us, too, and aerial perspective, but 
only when we have learned how to interpret what we see. 
Distant mountains, for example, tend to take on bluish and 
purplish hues. 

Accurate and sensitive as vision is, it is nevertheless 



Fig. 46. — The retinal image ah of the object AB evidently is of 
the same size as the images of the object XY much farther dis- 
tant and the object LM much nearer at hand. Unless our 
knowledge about the objects enabled us to make allowance for 
the different distances, we should be at a loss to know their 
relative size. 



subject to certain striking illusions of which a few are 
shown in Figure 47, with no attempt to explain them. 

Space Perception from Touch. — Touch has figured 
historically as the fundamental spacial sense, from which 
all the others are in a way derivatives. We have, at an 
earlier point, indicated the limits within which this state- 
ment is true. It is a fact that while under ordinary con- 
ditions vision is much more important to us as a space 
purveying sense, nevertheless in cases of doubt or hesita- 
tion we are wont to accept the verdict of touch as the 
final index of reality. In the spacial world of daily life, 
however, touch is simply one of a group of factors which 



SENSE PERCEPTION 



127 





a 



a 



Fig. 47. — The horizontal lines in A are of equal length, although 
they do not so appear. In B the line which really continues a 
does not appear to do so. In C the lower figure appears clearly 
larger, although upper and lower are exactly equal in area. 
In B the parallel lines no longer appear parallel, In E the 
filled spaces, ah, appear longer than the equal, unfilled spaces, 
6c. 



128 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

cooperate with one another to give us our actual space 
world. 

In the first instance, touch is the great medium through 
which we locate stimuli upon our bodily surfaces. It will 
be remembered that in our study of the nervous system 
we found it so arranged that the receptors from the skin 
surfaces are immediately connected in the central system 
with effectors leading out into muscles controlling these 
same cutaneous regions. This mechanism is obviously de- 
signed to enable the immediate movement of a stimulated 
region. Genetically there can be no doubt that the pro- 
tective value of tkese localizing movements has been very 
great. 

In the human being the power of localization on the 
skin varies enormously on the different body surfaces, as 
was suggested in the preceding chapter. On the finger 
tips and the palms of the hand, it is relatively delicate, 
on the back of the arms, on the back of the trunk, and on 
large parts of the legs the localization is crude and coarse. 
The truth of these statements can be promptly demon- 
strated by allowing another person, while one's eyes 
are closed, to touch lightly with a pen point the skin 
of the hand and the back of the forearm, and immediately 
thereafter trying with a similar point to touch one's own 
skin on the spots previously stimulated. The differences 
in the sensitiveness of the surfaces for localization will be 
immediately seen to be very great. Another interesting 
method of demonstrating the same kind of thing is to take 
a pair of dividers, separate the points by about an inch, 
touch the skin of the cheek with the two points just in 
front of the ear and then draw them lightly across the 
face, passing with one point just above and the other just 



SENSE PERCEPTION 129 

below the lips, and so across to the other ear. With the 
points a little closer together a similar experiment may be 
made by starting with the points on the tip of the inner 
side of the middle finger, thence passing up over the finger 
across the palm and up the wrist and forearm to the 
shoulder. In both experiments the points will be felt to 
be spreading and coming together again in the most amaz- 
ing fashion. This is because the sensitivity of the regions 
explored is so very different, a fact explicable by the varia- 
tions in the richness of the nerve supply in the areas 
traversed. 

In addition to the power of localization, touch possesses 
also the capacity to report size and shape with reasonable 
accuracy. It arises from the only sense organ which is 
itself capable of conforming to a three-dimensioned object, 
e.g., when we grasp a golf ball in the hand, and it has 
been a favorite doctrine at one time and another that we 
are indebted to touch alone for all our original knowledge 
of the third dimension, or distance. However it may fare 
with this particular view, no one is disposed to question 
that touch, in connection with movement at least, does give 
us tri-dimensional experiences. 

In speaking of touch in this way it is generally under- 
stood that temperature sensations are included. As a 
matter of fact, practically all touch experiences have some 
temperature elements attached to them, and in some cases 
this substantially affects our spacial judgments. For 
instance, an object which is distinctly hot or cold, if 
pressed upon the skin, is likely to be judged larger — 
and heavier — than the same object if thermally indifferent. 
A coin may serve to make such an experiment with. Of 
course it frequently happens that in passing from a 



130 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

warmer to a colder temperature, as when one goes out of 
doors on a cold day, one encounters a considerable mass of 
temperature sensations without any accompanying touch 
experience. In these cases we get a general massive tem- 
perature impression, which has a certain vague spacial 
character, but unless it be combined with contact, we 
seldom think of it as possessing shape or definite size. 
Practically, therefore, we make little or no use of thermal 
sensations as sources of space experience save for purposes 
of very general orientation, as when we approach or move 
away from a source of heat. Cutaneous pain is even less 
significant as a factor in space perception. 

Motor Sensations in Space Perception. — Although 
movement gives us through the sensations which it immedi- 
ately evokes only vague, crude space perceptions, it is of 
the utmost importance in the exact use of practically all 
the other spacial senses. In the first place, it is to be 
remarked that kinaesthetic sensations are, as a matter of 
fact, all but invariably connected with other sensations, 
and particularly with. the cutaneous group. If one moves 
the hand, thus occasioning sensations of movement from 
the muscles and joints, one simultaneously produces 
through changes in skin tension a group of touch impres- 
sions. If the eye be moved, there is again a group of 
vague, but real contact sensations, to say nothing of the 
retinal changes which also set up visual sensations. The 
anatomical conditions which bring about this conjoint 
excitation of kinaesthetic with other sense stimulations are 
no doubt responsible for the widely recognized fact that 
movement is largely employed as a measure of the other 
forms of spacial sensation. 

In those types of experience in which we gain control 



SENSE PERCEPTION 131 

over the larger space relations it is fairly clear tliat move- 
ment sensations play some such part as that just intimated. 
For example, the child learns the real distance from side 
to side of a room only by creeping or walking. It is in 
terms of the effort required to pass from one point to 
another, that one learns to give some precise content to 
such a distance as the mile. In one sense the basis of all 
these spacial experiences is resident in the contact sensa- 
tions coming from the soles of the feet, and in the visual 
sensations arising from the momentarily changing point of 
view. But the sensations which come from joint and 
muscle are quite as fundamental. These serve to punctu- 
ate, as it were, with each rhythmic movement of the limbs, 
the amount of the other sensory data, visual, tactual or 
what not, which is ultimately translated into terms of dis- 
tance. Upon the product of these several factors is finally 
placed the conventional label in terms of feet or yards or 
miles. 

It is interesting to remark in connection with this gen- 
eral commentary on the organization into a working sys- 
tem of our space perceptions from different senses, that 
there always remain outstanding certain unreconciled dis- 
parities. For example, the cavity in the tooth which feels 
so huge to the tongue is a poor thing when explored by 
the finger tip or examined by the eye. Many other 
similar instances could be mentioned. Doubtless they rep- 
resent discrepancies in the reports of the several senses 
which have too little practical importance to occasion their 
reconciliation. 

Organic Sensations and Space. — The organic sensa- 
tions, other than those of the kinaesthetic group can, in 
the nature of the ease, give us only space perceptions of our 



132 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

own inner bodily conditions. For the most part the spacial 
impressions thus aroused, e.g., visceral sensations from the 
abdomen, are extremely vague in character. Certainly 
they play no important part in our general spacial orienta- 
tion. The reflex functions of the semicircular canals 
while highly significant for the preservation of balance, 
and so for space adjustments, give us ordinarily little or no 
direct conscious report, so we need not consider them in 
this connection. 

The Perception of Time. — ^We have seen that although 
taken literally every one of our senses may contribute to 
our appreciation of space relations, it is to a selected few, 
particularly vision, touch, and movement, that we are 
indebted for our more accurate estimates of distance, direc- 
tion, shape, and size. In the same way all the senses may 
contribute to our appreciation of the passage of time. 
But it is especially to hearing and movement that we owe 
our more accurate estimates, at least for the briefer inter- 
vals for which we have something fairly to be called 
direct perception. The longer intervals of time are in 
general judged indirectly by means of symbols of one kind 
or another. Under civilized conditions of life, we are in 
constant contact with watches and clocks, and all of us 
who live in any measure a routine life are frequently re- 
minded by the mere progress of our work of the amount 
of time which has elapsed. The bodily rhythms serve a 
similar purpose. Hunger, for example, does not allow us 
long to forget the accustomed periods for our meals. The 
changes of light and temperature which mark the sun's 
daily course give us other indications of time. For the 
longer periods, such as the week, the month, and the year, 
we rely upon various indirect measures, although the two 



SENSE PERCEPTION 133 

latter named intervals are marked more or less definitely, 
the one by the shifting phases of the moon, the other by 
the climatic changes incident to the rotating seasons. 

Though in ordinary circumstances we have neither op- 
portunity nor need for judging brief intervals directly, we 
find that when we set up experimental conditions we can 
judge most accurately, if we are permitted to use sensa- 
tions of hearing and movement to measure off the time. 
Thus a series of rapidly succeeding sounds can be judged 
more accurately than a series of flashes of light. All such 
direct time judgments are periodic, that is to say, we break 
up a time interval into a series of 'moments.' These 
moments are not like the geometrical points, i.e., places 
without size. They are real durations, and may extend 
from a fraction of a second to several seconds in length. 
Whatever the actual length of such a moment, we treat it 
as a unit, and in comparing directly one time interval 
with another we judge whether or not one of these units 
is longer or shorter than another, or whether there are 
more or less of such units in a total interval. 

Perception of Accent and Rhythm. — Our judgment of 
these immediately sensed time intervals is closely related 
to our perception of rhythm, in which evidently both 
duration and accent are involved. Here again hearing and 
movement are paramount, although there seems good rea- 
son to believe that vision, too, may contribute something. 
Our estimate of the duration of one interval in comparison 
with another is much affected by this fact of accent. An 
interval bounded by two loud sounds seems shorter to us 
than an equal interval bounded by weak sounds. 

For certain of the arts, for example, music, poetry, and 
dancing, it would be quite impossible to over-estimate the 



134 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

significance of rhythm. In a sense these arts are simply 
the soul of rhythm embodied in different kinds of sensory 
media. But so far as concerns the apprehension of time, 
it is fairly clear that while we are always more or less con- 
scious of its passing, we tend to make the great mass of 
our judgments about it indirectly and by means of arti- 
ficial indices. Only v/hen we are overcome by the tedious- 
ness of a situation, do we tend to become vividly aware of 
the mere fact of time itself. Five minutes spent in inter- 
esting work passes literally before one knows it. The same 
interval spent in a dingy railway station, waiting for a 
train, takes on fairly portentous dimensions. One never 
knows just how serious a trial it is to be bored, until one 
encounters such an experience. 

Conditions Affecting Apparent Length of Intervals. — 
Attention has often been drawn, and with good reason, to 
the change of attitude which we undergo as we grow older 
toward the commoner time intervals of daily life. In 
childhood the year appears an interminable prospect, 
spreading out in the dim distance ahead. The month 
affords in its turn a majestic outlook. Eveii the week is 
big with possibilities, and the day itself is not to be taken 
lightly, especially that part of it dedicated to the strenu- 
osities of the schoolroom. In later life the perspective is 
wholly altered. Not only when we look backward, but even 
when we turn our gaze forward, the year becomes more 
and more a trifle, affording only grudging opportunity for 
the accomplishment of the absolutely essential thing. The 
shorter intervals tend to get wholly lost. To be sure, in 
some tedious lives, especially those which are lived under 
the shadow of ill-health, the month and the week may take 
on more impressive dimensions, but even so, as contrasted 



SENSE PERCEPTION 135 

with the conditions in childhood, all these intervals tend to 
shrink. 

In general, this . phenomenon seems to be due to the 
increasing domination of routine in our lives, and to the 
monopolizing of our attention in the mere execution of the 
daily obligations of life. In childhood the world is fresher, 
anticipation is more often whetted, the future is more 
uncertain, preoccupation is less intense and prolonged. 
All these factors make for a more vivid sense of the pass- 
ing of time and tend to interrupt it more frequently in 
the" mood of uncertain prospecting. 

Another peculiarity of our estimates of time which de- 
serves mention relates to our memory of the length of 
intervals, depending upon the manner in which they were 
passed. It is a common experience, for example, that 
despite the tedium of prolonged illness, we carry away in 
memory no vivid recollection, as a rule, to make such 
intervals seem long in retrospect. We well remember that 
we were bored to the verge of distraction, and that it often 
seemed as though the morrow would never come. But in 
retrospect it all shrinks completely out of resemblance to 
its original dreary length. On the other hand, intervals 
which pass like a flash when we are keenly interested and 
absorbingly preoccupied loom in memory as very long. 
This inversion of the memory estimate of a time interval 
as compared with our appreciation of it when in progress, 
obviously relates itself to the fact that in retrospect an 
interval is likely to seem long or short depending upon 
whether we can give it much or little content, can read 
back into it few or many events. 

Peculiar Forms of Time Judgment. — A curious phe- 
nomenon which has often attracted attention consists in 



136 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

the ability which some individuals possess to tell the time 
with quite extraordinary accuracy without appealing to 
watch or clock. The most skilful individuals can do this 
even when awakened out of sound sleep in the middle of 
the night. It is often combined with the ability to awaken 
from sleep automatically at any hour desired. We are at 
present rather in the dark as to the exact mechanism by 
which these results are achieved. Recent experiments indi- 
cate that a considerable group of factors may be involved, 
some of which are employed by one individual and some 
by another. If the subject be wakened in the night, his 
judgment of the hour may be based on the feelings of 
fatigue or freshness, or on the number of dreams since 
falling asleep, etc., etc. But for some gifted individuals 
the judgment is direct and immediate and not dependent 
on any such data. Reference is made to the matter simply 
because it serves to suggest in a somewhat impressive 
fashion the extent to which the organism is sensitive to 
temporal changes. 



CHAPTER VIII 
MEMORY - 

The analysis of the perception of time leads naturally to 
a consideration of those mental processes by means of 
which we are able to transcend time, to bring back into 
our minds events which are past, and to project ourselves 
in fancy into the future. We shall therefore turn to a 
discussion of memory and imagination, by means of which 
we achieve these two results; and first let us examine the 
main characteristics of memory. 

At several previous points we have observed how past 
experience modifies present experience. Instincts reflect 
the successful struggles of thousands of former genera- 
tions, and while it is not usual to think of them as involv- 
ing memory in any usual sense, they may be regarded as 
disclosing a form of racial memory. Similarly we have 
already observed that in our perceptual processes we make 
constant use, however unconsciously, of past experience. 
But neither of these instances comprises the special kind of 
conscious memory which we mean to examine. This is best 
represented in acts such as those in which we recall our 
whereabouts a few hours ago, remember what we said and 
did, who was with us, etc. As James puts it: ''Memory 
proper — is the knowledge of an event or fact, of which 
meantime we have not been thinking with the additional 
consciousness that we have thought, or experienced it 
before." The term 'memory' is generally used more 

137 



138 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

loosely than this in common parlance and even in psychol- 
ogy. It covers the broad ability to retain and recall 
former experiences, without much regard to the important 
point emphasized in the last two clauses of James' defini- 
tion. 

So familiar are operations of this sort that we become 
quite insensitive to their altogether miraculous character. 
But a miracle it surely is that we should thus be able 
months and years after an event has passed to bring it 
once again into the focus of the mind's eye. 

Retention and Recall. — It appears to the most super- 
ficial inspection that memory involves two distinguishable 
processes, retention and recall. After a thought has 
passed out of the mind, it may be absent for years and 
still at any time be within the range of recall. When it 
is actually recalled, it lives again, not precisely as it did 
at first, but nevertheless genuinely and in a way which 
may lead to practical consequences quite like those which 
flowed from it on its first appearance. If one asks where 
a thought is when one is not thinking about it, the ques- 
tion may strike the average individual as in the nature of 
a fatuous conundrum. In point of fact it is not only a 
perfectly fair question, but one whose answer carries with 
it highly significant consequences for one's general con- 
ception of the nature of the mind. To discuss the matter 
in detail is hardly practicable within the limitations set 
by the present book. Suffice it to say that in the judgment 
of the author the most convenient way of thinking about 
this phenomenon of retention is in physiological terms. 
Presumably, as we have previously seen, the brain tissues 
take up and preserve modifications impressed upon them 
by sensorial stimulations. When the stimulus is removed, 



MEMORY 139 

the modifications persist, some of them tenaciously and for 
long periods of time, others in a more fleeting and 
evanescent manner. When the process we have designated 
recall occurs, we assume that in some way or other these 
old nervous pathways through the brain are once more 
set in activity by impulses traveling over them and we 
become again conscious of the situation earlier experienced. 
We shall presently discuss certain features of memory 
training and point out some of the qualifications of a good 
memory. Obviously, retention and recall will play an 
important part in any such discussion. We turn first, 
however, to certain other facts about the memory process. 

Forgetting as a Factor in Memory. — Contrary to the 
common impression, forgetting is really a very essential 
part of effective remembering, but one must choose with 
intelligence that which is to be discarded. Obviously, if 
our memories were freighted with the entire mass of 
trivial details of daily life we should be swamped. As 
a matter of fact, when we recall any ordinary episode, we 
get a highly schematic and abbreviated recollection in 
which as a rule only the more important aspects present 
themselves. All the rest has disappeared, and unless it be 
essential for the purposes in hand, it will not ordinarily be 
revived. The kind of forgetting which naturally attracts 
our attention is that which impedes or cripples our con- 
duct, because we cannot at the appropriate moment recall 
just the required information. As compared, however, with 
the great body of the phenomena of forgetting, these cases 
are trifling in amount. 

Many interesting studies have in recent yesivs been made 
showing something of the manner in which forgetting pro- 
ceeds, and here again ordinary impressions are apt to be 



140 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

quite wrong. Figure 48 illustrates graphically the rate at 
which a process of forgetting goes forward. If one 
memorizes a list of numbers so that they can just be suc- 
cessfully repeated, the process of forgetting proceeds most 
rapidly in the first few hours after the act of learning. 
Then, as the curve shows, the process tends to slow up until 
finally a point is reached, after which it becomes practically 
impossible to measure the further loss. Most people sup- 



100!{ 



1 g ii 48 144 720 

Fig. 48. — Curve of forgetting based on Ebbinhaus' study of memory 
for nonsense syllables memorized to the point where they could 
be correctly repeated once. The vertical line represents the 
percentage of the material recalled after lapse of increasing 
intervals of time indicated on the horizontal line, to wit, 1, 9, 
24, 48, 144, 720 hours respectively. The curve for material 
conveying meaning and not learned verbatim would be quite 
different. Under such conditions association of various kinds 
enters to modify the permanency of the memory far more than 
in the case of nonsense material, although even there it can 
be shown to exercise some effect in increasing the duration of 
retention. (Modified from Pillsbury.) 

pose that there is very little forgetting immediately after 

the completion of such a learning process, but a little 

experimentation will disabuse the mind of this conviction. 

Distribution of Effort in Memorizing. — Clearly this 



MEMORY 141 

fact has important implications for students who are 
attempting to master new subjects that call for verbatim 
memorizing. There is a considerable amount of sup- 
plementary experimentation dealing with other aspects of 
this same matter, tending to show that the distribution of 
one's effort is a matter of prime consequence, not only in 
the economizing of time and energy, but also in the secur- 
ing of permanent results. These experiments relate not 
only to the mastery of intellectual materials, such as would 
be represented in ordinary college studies, but also to the 
acquirement of acts of skill, involving muscular dexterities 
of various kinds. Experiments have thus been made deal- 
ing with the acquirement of a language, as an illustration 
of an ordinary intellectual task. Others have dealt with 
the attainment of skill in the throwing of balls, in the 
shooting of arrows, in the mastery of the typewriter, and 
so on. Although the precise time relations naturally vary 
with the special task, all the experiments tell the same gen- 
eral story in making clear that there is a very wide choice 
among the various methods of distributing one's attempts 
to learn. 

All students are familiar with the process of cramming, 
by means of which even the most neglectful are sometimes 
able successfully to survive the rigors of an examination. 
There can be no doubt that for practically all persons, and 
for some favored souls in high degree, it is possible, by 
the devotion of a closely sustained effort of memory cover- 
ing many hours just preceding an examination (if it be 
of the type chiefly testing accuracy of recall), to carry 
a sufficient body of facts in mind to come through the 
ordeal with some vestige of credit. Meantime, for the 
great majority of persons there is equally no question that 



142 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

matter memorized under these conditions is lost almost as 
rapidly as it is gained. Exceptions must be made for the 
occasional individual who can under these conditions not 
only learn rapidly, but retain the facts acquired with 
moderate tenacity. Indeed, it may be mentioned at this 
point that people may be divided into four fairly distinct 
memory groups: (1) those who learn slowly and retain 
well — a not uncommon and on the whole a generally effec- 
tive type; (2) those who learn slowly and forget quickly 
(except in pathological cases not a very frequent type) ; 
(3) those who learn quickly and forget quickly, an ex- 
tremely common American type; and (4) those who learn 
quickly and retain well, a rare but bona fide and eminently 
fortunate type. 

While it is impracticable at the present time to lay down 
any hard and fast rules, valid for all kinds of work, it is 
quite possible to indicate the general principles which 
should be observed to secure effective memorizing. Obvi- 
ously, if the process of forgetting goes on most rapidly 
soon after the completion of an effort at learning, it will 
be well to repeat the process before the forgetting has pro- 
ceeded so far as to require a disproportionate repetition of 
the original labor. On the other hand, a too long con- 
tinued effort will not only defeat itself because of fatigue, 
but also because (if we may judge the import of a con- 
siderable group of recognized facts) a certain amount of 
time is required for the modifications impressed upon the 
nervous system to sink in and set. If the attempts at 
learning be so distributed as to coincide closely with these 
beneficial periods of 'setting' in the nerves, we shall pre- 
sumably get the best results in terms of economy of total 
time and energy expended. In the preparation of ordinary 



MEMORY 143 

academic work, these considerations would lead one, in con- 
trast to the cramming method, to distribute one's study 
over a relatively long period of weeks or months, with 
frequent repetition of the material one is attempting to 
master. 

The problem confronting the ordinary college student 
relates to the arrangement of daily work rather than to 
the organization of the tasks covering a series of days. 
In this case exactly the same doctrine holds true, but the 
foregoing illustrations may perhaps seem to be less immedi- 
ately relevant. The average student hardly gets over the 
daily assignments once, leave alone any question of repeat- 
ing the exercise, so that to urge a distribution of effort on 
the ground that a repetition at interrupted intervals is 
advantageous seems somewhat beside the mark. It is cer- 
tainly true that if the student cannot so arrange his work 
as to cover it more than once, the principles under con- 
sideration cannot be made to apply to him very obviously. 
But in practically all cases an industrious student can go 
over his assignment twice, the second time by way of 
review, and in this case he will find the permanency of his 
retention decidedly enhanced by making such a repetition 
or review at a time separated by a few hours perhaps from 
his first encounter. Needless to say, the peculiarities of 
different forms of subject matter play a real part in such 
a situation. Languages, mathematics, and history are 
likely each to present certain idiosyncrasies not common 
to the others. Certainly a little conscious experimentation 
on this matter will be found of unequivocal benefit by any 
serious student. 

Many students, and among them generally the most con- 
scientious, are apt to suppose themselves peculiarly vir- 



144 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tuous if they devote themselves for as many hours of con- 
secutive work as they find necessary to cover a particular 
assignment. As a matter of fact, this often results in a 
grotesque waste of time because the student 's mind becomes 
dull and tired and fails to work at anything like its normal 
level. It would be much more sensible to interrupt the 
work at that point where genuine fatigue sets in, to turn 
to some other subject, or better yet, to get the air and some 
moderate form of recreation, with a return to the mental 
labor itself at a later period in the day. The moral virtue 
which is no doubt inherent in the course described is unfor- 
tunately largely negatived by the psychological viciousness 
of the process. Our schools and colleges are as yet very 
largely oblivious to the increased efficiency possible in the 
work of students by an intelligent organization of their 
periods of work. Nor is it simply a matter of efficiency ; it 
is also a matter which involves fundamentally the joy and 
satisfaction of a proper use of one's mind. 

Typical Defects of Memory. — Fallacious memory, as 
it occurs in normal individuals, usually takes one of three 
forms : (1) facts may be recalled in an order different from 
that in which they originally occurred, (2) certain facts 
may be forgotten altogether, or (3) facts which never 
occurred will be inserted in the memory of those which 
actually did happen. These errors of memory may all be 
easily verified by attempting to memorize lists of eight or 
ten digits. In recall some of the digits will occur in 
changed order, some will be omitted altogether, and others 
will drop out and substitutes present themselves quite 
without the knowledge of the experimenter. 

Certain diseases of memory give us an interesting insight 
into the principles of its organization. In the disease 



MEMORY 145 

known as dementia, there is practically a complete loss of 
memory. The same thing is met with in the case of shock 
as the result of an accident, like a railway collision. Even 
severe emotional shock, caused for example by the unex- 
pected receipt of bad news, may produce this result. Aged 
people come in time to suffer from much the same complete 
destruction of memory. 

Partial destruction of memory may be illustrated by 
cases which affect either (1) a special segment of time, 
or (2) some special group of subjects, or (3) the imagery 
connected with a particular sense. After an accident, per- 
sons are often unable to recall anything which occurred for 
several hours preceding the event and for appreciable 
intervals of time thereafter. In this case the loss affects 
information of every kind covered by the period of time 
involved. Quite different from this is the loss of memory 
for music, or for a foreign language. Here there is no 
question of a special interval of time; the defect relates 
entirely to an interconnected subject matter. Again, there 
may be a more or less complete loss of visual images, so 
that one cannot recall the appearance of objects. These 
facts suggest the various kinds of bonds which hold 
memories together. 

The disintegration of memory in old age already men- 
tioned is a familiar phenomenon closely related to the facts 
just described. One of the first groups of memories to 
disappear is that of proper names. Odd as it may appear, 
abstract ideas seem to be more tenaciously retained than 
those of a more concrete character. In any event, this is 
true of the words which we use to designate such ideas. 
Nouns tend to disappear in advance of adjectives and 
verbs. This may mean that we use the latter oftener and 



146 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

in more varied connections, so that we have a larger 
reservoir of experiences upon which to draw. Perhaps it 
means that we can conveniently use other kinds of memory 
material for the objects designated by nouns, and that in 
consequence our verbal memory for them is not so well 
drilled. Thus we can recall the appearance of a table by 
means of a visual image. Whatever the explanation, the 
facts are as we have stated. Elderly people are also often 
forgetful of very recent events, while recalling with great 
vividness the experiences of childhood. This fact is no 
doubt due to the loss of plasticity in the brain for new 
impressions. 

The Conditions of a Good Memory. — ^'A good memory 
. . . would seem to depend upon (1) ease and rapidity of 
acquirement, (2) permanency of retention, and (3) the 
ability to recall information promptly and accurately when 
wanted. These results clearly involve (a) tlie original act 
of impression, (b) the process of retention, and (c) the act 
of recollection. The original impression and the act of 
recollection are under our immediate control. The process 
of retention, once a stimulation is given, depends upon the 
brain tissues, whose condition we can improve only indi- 
rectly by giving ourselves healthful habits and hygienic 
surroundings. ' ' 

So far as concerns the original act of impression, it is in 
the highest degree essential, if memory is to be accurate 
and tenacious, that there shall be the greatest possible con- 
centration of attention. There can be no reasonable ques- 
tion that the variations in the efficiency of the memories of 
different individuals are largely occasioned by their differ- 
ent powers or habits of concentrated attending. We give 
concentrated attention naturally to things which interest 



MEMORY 147 

us and to things which are emotionally exciting. We have 
also to some degree the power through sheer effort of will 
and resolution to focalize our attention for a time even upon 
subjects which are per se neither interesting nor exciting. 
The attention given to a considerable part of the ordinary 
student 's work is likely to have in it something of this more 
or less heroic mastery of one's mind, but it is obviously 
vastly easier to attend where our interest is sincerely en- 
listed, and it is for this reason that not a little of modern 
pedagogical theory has insisted that education be so or- 
ganized as to appeal at each stage to the natural interests 
of the average boy and girl. 

The original impression can sometimes be augmented by 
appealing to more than one sense avenue, as when, for 
example, a word is spelled out loud and also written. The 
Chinese secure a form of intensified attention by reading 
their lessons aloud. Impressions can obviously be made 
much deeper by repetition, and for materials which must 
be mastered verbatim continued repetition will practically 
always bring success, however tedious the process. 

Much more important in retaining an impression is the 
association of one fact with other logically related facts. 
A date in history which is in this way knit up with a great 
group of antecedent circumstances and a similar set of sub- 
sequent events, becomes part of an organized system of 
ideas and is not likely to be lost, unless the entire group 
to which it belongs disappears. 

On the negative side, anything which serves to minimize 
distraction will be helpful. Freedom from disturbing 
noises, from draughts, from uncomfortable chairs, from 
unduly interesting scenes, is of signal importance. 

It is of course evident that while the points touched upon 



148 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

in the last few paragraphs all relate to the matter of secur- 
ing desirable original impressions, the practical conse- 
quences for the memory process are to be found at the 
moment of recall. In this connection it will be remembered 
that, earlier in the chapter, in discussing the process of 
learning and the connected process of forgetting, the sig- 
nificance for retention of recency of stimulation was 
pointed out. 

No single procedure which can be readily commanded is 
likely to be more serviceable in securing tenacious impres- 
sions than the immediate practical application of any item 
of information which has been memorized. Obviously the 
special kind of application will depend upon the character 
of the information. It may be something relating to the 
use of tools, in which ease it should be embodied in the 
actual manipulation of the tools. It may have to do with 
geometry. If so, it should be put into immediate demon- 
stration with models or drawings. If of a more abstract 
character, it may at least be discussed or embodied in some 
written form. It is of much less consequence what special 
use is made of it, although this is important, than that it 
get prompt application somewhere. The conception which 
was introduced in the opening chapters of the book would 
lead us to expect exactly such a result as this, because 
we saw that all our mental processes take their rise out of 
conditions of motor control, and it is therefore natural to 
expect that the best results will be obtained wherever we 
realize the translation of sensory and ideational processes 
into effective motor activities. 

Transfer of Training. — An interesting question is sug- 
gested at this point. Does training the memory in one sub- 
ject improve the memory process for all subjects ? Until a 



MEMORY 149 

few years ago almost everyone would have answered this 
question with a vigorous affirmative. Some of the first 
experiments, however, initiated to investigate the facts led 
to an equally positive denial. More careful and exhaustive 
experiments seem to show that the general value of memory 
training secured in any special field, e.g., language study, 
is greatest for closely similar subject matter, that it 
diminishes rapidly for subject matter more and more re- 
mote in character, but that some effect is traceable in prac- 
tically any other task undertaken. The same thing holds 
for other kinds of training, e.g., muscular skill, where one 
sometimes encounters negative transfer. A man who has 
learned to speak one foreign language may even find it 
more difficult to learn a second of very different structure, 
than he would have, had he not learned the first. In gen- 
eral, however, any systematic, controlled discipline of atten- 
tion seems likely to leave behind some positive benefit for 
other forms of intellectual work, and memory is no excep- 
tion to the general principle. 

Improvement of Retention and Recall. — It has already 
been pointed out that retention is primarily a matter of 
the brain and nervous system, over which we have only 
such indirect control as is represented by our ability in a 
measure to gain and maintain conditions of health. What 
has been said about securing effective original impressions 
comprises most of what is to be said about recall itself. To 
be most effective, it usually requires conditions of high 
concentration of attention." If baffled at any point, 4t must 

^ A curious exception to the general rule is found in the not un- 
common experience of trying to recall a forgotten name. The more 
one tries, the less one succeeds. If the mind be directed to some 
other matter, the name often comes back without more ado. These 
cases are probably due to temporary blockage in the synaptic con- 



150 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

show itself flexible and alert to utilize every trail of sug- 
gestion, to neglect quickly those which are unfruitful, and 
to follow relentlessly those which promise success. If we 
have built up our material on well organized lines, we 
shall find our memories commonly serving us well; but a 
memory which has never been subjected to persistent dis- 
cipline is always likely to prove treacherous, both in fail- 
ing to supply that which is needed and in often presenting 
wholly 'fictitious material as fact. 

In this general connection it may be remarked that 
hypnosis gives us evidence that normal recall has access to 
very much less memory material than is actually preserved 
in the brain. In hypnotic sleep it is found possible to tap 
reservoirs of memory which are ordinarily closely sealed. 
A rough analogy to this situation is perhaps afforded by 
the supernormal muscular power evinced in mania and 
some other forms of nervous disease, when the nervous and 
muscular systems are often forced to a far more violent 
discharge of energy than usual. 

Mnemonic Systems. — Certain readers will have seen 
advertisements of systems of memory training, and will 
wish to know something of their value. It is impossible to 
enter fully upon the matter here. Suffice it to say that in 
addition to such considerations as have been already re- 
hearsed, the most successful systems exploit the creation of 
great varieties of arbitrary association, by means of which 
one may pass from one fact to another. A list of forty or 
fifty words may thus be memorized on a single reading by 
virtue of arranging them so as to exploit such associa- 



nections in the brain, of the character, perhaps, of passing fatigue. 
Effort of attention only aggravates the inhibitions, which generally 
pass away of themselves after a time. 



MEMORY 151 

tions. Four or five words will serve to illustrate the 
point. House — chimney — smoke — tobacco — cigar — Cuba^ 
Spain — King. Other systems begin by obliging the user to 
memorize a very elaborate framework, which then serves 
as the rack upon which by means of these arbitrary asso- 
ciations are hung all specific facts to be remembered.^ 

It may be said in general of systems of this kind that 
for some very limited purposes they may be of real value, 
but as bases for any thorough development of memory they 
are distinctly less useful than the methods we have de- 
scribed, assuming an equal investment of time and energy 
in the process of training. 

^ " Suppose one has occasion to remember a great many unrelated 
numbers, like the street addresses of a large group of people. One 
may greatly facilitate such a feat by first memorising a " form," 
in which each digit is connected with a consonant, e.g., the 1 with t, 
2 with 1, 3 with d, etc. The next step is to make a word easily 
suggested by the person whose number is to be remembered, in 
which these letters shall occur in proper order. For example, Mr. 
Smith's number is 122, Mr. Smith is tall. The word tall in the 
number form means 122, for the vowels are neglected." 



CHAPTER IX 
IMAGINATION 

At the outset of the previous chapter, we commented 
upon man's remarkable capacity to look either forward or 
backward far beyond the limits of the present moment of 
time. We then described certain important general aspects 
of memory. Now we must turn to a discussion of a more 
intimate kind regarding the psychological material em- 
ployed in the memory process. This undertaking will be 
found to lead naturally to a study of imagination, the 
mental device by which we anticipate the future. 

Imagery the Medium of Recall. — We have seen that 
we possess an organic form of memory which preserves for 
us as reflex and instinctive acts, certain useful adjustments 
which our ancestors acquired at some time in the remote 
past. Much of this type of memory has relatively little of 
the psychological now in it. Conscious memory is very 
largely made up of imagery, that is to say, of the reinstate- 
ment of sensory experience in ideational form. Looking 
at a book lying on the table, and then closing the eyes and 
attempting to see it mentally as it was a moment before, 
most people succeed with reasonable promptness in produc- 
ing a mental visual picture of the book, which for many 
of them possesses considerable fidelity of detail, both as 
regards color and form, and w^hich for others, although 
vaguer and less distinct than the original, is still unequivo- 
cally visual in character. Interesting experiments have 

152 



IMAGINATION 153 

shown that some persons are able to project these visual 
images out into space and hold them before the attention 
fixedly enough to permit comparing them with actually 
present physical objects. The reader may readily con- 
vince himself by trial whether or not he can achieve this 
projection, and if so, in what manner the images thus 
projected differ from the objects actually seen. 

Similarly, if a melody be played upon the piano, many 
individuals are able immediately thereafter to ' hear the 
tune running through the head.' The tonal quality of this 
secondary mental experience is for many persons perfectly 
unmistakable, and it involves what psychologists know as 
auditory imagery. It is quite likely to be combined with 
more or less definite throat and lip movements, such as 
would be used in singing or whistling. Practically every 
sensation may in this way be repeated in the form of 
imagery, although there is very great variety among indi- 
viduals as regards their ability to command one or another 
form. Certain persons have a marked preference for one 
or two varieties of images, and may be quite lacking in 
some or all of the others. Generally speaking, vision, hear- 
ing, and the kinaesthetic senses ^ are most richly repre- 
sented. 

The cutaneous group, together with certain organic sen- 
sations, probably comes next, with smell and taste com- 
peting for last place. 

In all cases of detailed revival of past experience in 
memory, we make use of one or another variety of these 

* Some psychologists doubt whether kinaesthetic images are ever 
experienced, because they believe that every attempt to secure them 
results in the contraction, slight though it may be, of the corre- 
sponding muscles, thus arousing kinaesthetic sensation. 



154 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

images as the means by which we reinstate mentally the 
particular event or fact to be recalled. This does not mean, 
however, that we necessarily recall events by images cor- 
responding in sense quality to the nature of the original 
sensory experience, although this is often the case. For 
example, the memory of a street scene may come back in 
the form of visual images, but this is not inevitable and for 
persons who have but little control over visual images, some 
other type of imaginal material may be employed. Prob- 
ably the commonest substitute imagery is linguistic ; that is 
to say, one may bring back in the form of words, facts and 
events which may originally have been visually experi- 
enced. In this case the words are apt to be embodied in 
auditory imagery, or in the form of motor images of the 
movements of the throat, tongue, and lips in speaking. The 
two are with most persons regularly conjoined. This con- 
junction is a natural expression of the law of habit, inas- 
much as when we speak, we necessarily hear our own voices 
and so set up an intimate association between the motor and 
the auditory linguistic elements. Sometimes the recall 
occurs in the form of nascent spoken words. We 'talk to 
ourselves' as the method of revival. Again, the memory 
may consist almost wholly in assuming the motor attitudes 
of the remembered experience. "When we come to discuss 
reasoning processes, we shall have occasion to describe in 
greater detail some of these substitute devices by which 
we use one kind of mental material to represent another. 
It should also be added that some psychologists believe that 
they recall events by 'pure thoughts' having no imagery 
and no sensory or motor elements about them. The present 
writer thinks the evidence for these imageless memories un- 
convincing, especially where any attempt is made to recall 



- IMAGINATION 155 

precise details. It must not be forgotten, however, that 
our practical use of imagery for any purpose whatever in- 
volves our apprehension of its meaning, and it is generally 
the meaning and not the particular sensuous form of the 
imagery which is significant and important. 

Relation of Imagery to Anticipation and Imagination 
in General. — All that has been said about the use of 
imagery for the purposes of recall is equally true of the use 
which we make of it for purposes of anticipation. When 
we look forward in making a plan, we employ for the pur- 
pose mental imagery of one kind or another. Many people 
— and the reader can readily assure himself as to whether 
this be true in his own experience — in formulating an 
itinerary for a journey, find themselves drawing upon their 
visual imagery, by means of which they portray to them- 
selves the scenes which they expect to behold and the 
several stages of their progress. Again, it is a familiar 
form of mental organization which, if confronted with the 
necessity of deciding between conflicting lines of conduct, 
has recourse to a sort of mental debate in which auditory 
and motor language imagery is drawn upon and first one 
side and then the other is defended. This often goes so far 
that it ceases to be purely imaginal and becomes a sup- 
pressed but actual enunciation. 

Perhaps the most unequivocal instance of imagery with 
which the ordinary individual comes in contact is found 
in the dream. In waking life many persons find it difficult 
to be sure whether they have any images at all. But in 
the dream everybody acknowledges the presence of imagery 
and most persons can readily describe it. In the more 
exciting dreams the vividness of the experience seems fre- 
quently to exceed that of ordinary waking perceptions. 



156 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

We suggest, therefore, that any reader who finds it difficult 
quickly to identify his images, turn to his recollection of 
dreams. 

The term imagination is apt, like the connected terms 
fancy and fantasy, to suggest to many persons wholly un- 
real forms of experience. Of course, there is a sense in 
which this implication of the term is justified, as when we 
speak of imaginary ailments, or of castles in Spain. But 
this is a very small part of the psychological story. 
Imagination, which is simply a general term to cover our 
use of imagery, is obviously one of the basic realities of our 
mental life. The chief means by which we remember the 
past and anticipate the future could be nothing else. The 
fact that we also use it occasionally to conjure up fiction 
in no way lessens its essential importance. 

Ideas and Images. — Before going on to some of the 
details regarding our methods of using imagery, it will be 
well to dwell for a moment upon the term idea and its 
connection with the term image. 

One of the difficulties which the beginning student of 
psychology encounters arises from the fact that in common 
language we speak of recalling ideas, or of having ideas 
about the future, while we say nothing at all about images. 
Nevertheless the psychological usage is entirely justi- 
fiable, and a brief explanation will make the matter 
clear. 

When we speak of understanding the ideas in a book 
which we are reading, or in an address to which we are 
listening, we imply that we apprehend the meaning of 
that which is written or spoken. Similarly, when we have 
been thinking about a subject, we often describe the situa- 
tion by saying that ' certain ideas have been running in our 



IMAGINATION 157 

minds.' In neither of these cases do we have any occasion 
to remark, and much less to emphasize, the special imagery 
with which our minds have been filled in the process of 
following or developing the particular meaning involved. 
But upon a closer scrutiny of the actual situation, we shall 
find that to a greater or less degree we have been making 
constant use of one or another form of imagery, often with 
an appreciable admixture of sensations arising from our 
motor attitudes, which may be used as carriers of our 
meaning — e.g., the attitude of expectancy when thinking 
about an approaching event. Image and idea somewhat 
like sensation and perception, are, therefore, not two dif- 
ferent mental states, but one and the same, described now 
from the point of view of particular sensory texture and 
now from that of organization and meaning. If we wish 
to emphasize the fact of sensuous composition, whether 
auditory, visual, or whatever, we use the term image ; if the 
meaning of the imagery is the important matter and the 
special sensory texture is unimportant, we may use the 
term idea. For ordinary purposes, the latter is nearly 
always the significant matter, and consequently we tend to 
overlook its actual basis in sense perception or in imagery. 
But when we take the psychological point of view*, it be- 
comes quite essential to note and describe the special form 
in which the idea or meaning is embodied. With this in 
mind, we may always understand that when we speak of 
ideas we are referring to the meaning of images or percep- 
tions, but that in the particular immediate context the 
imagery is unimportant. 

A very common and fundamental distinction, which is 
sometimes thought of as substantially equivalent to the 
distinction between memory itself and imagination, is that 



158 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

between the productive and the reproductive forms of 
imagination/ 

Reproductive Imagination. — In so far as an image 
substantially copies previous sensation or some other ante- 
cedent image, it would be designated as reproductive. The 
usual notion of memory involves some such direct and un- 
modified recurrence of an original experience. As a matter 
of fact, probably no image is ever in any absolutely literal 
sense a mere copy of a previous experience. Differences of 
detail, to mention only a single point, are almost invariably 
present. Nevertheless, were we to compare the sum total 
of our images with our past experience, we should find 
many so closely resembling the sensory originals from which 
they spring, that we should naturally regard them as 
copies. On the other hand, many images are clearly com- 
binations of two or more originals, while in the case of still 
others we find it practically impossible to trace their 
sources. 

All verbatim memory clearly involves reproductive 
imagery, but as has been intimated earlier in the chapter, 
we may use vicarious memory materials which would not 
in any usual sense be called reproductive. It is thus quite 
possibl-e to recall an event, such as an automobile trip, 
largely through the medium of auditory-motor word im- 
agery, despite the fact that the most impressive events 
which now come back into the mind were themselves of 
visual character. Imagery used in this way evidently can- 
not be said in any proper sense to copy the original expe- 
rience as visual imagery perhaps might do. It is rather 
symbolic in character, it represents, or stands for, an 
experience which in its sensory texture was quite different 

^ See James' definition of memory on page 137. 



IMAGINATION 159 

from the imagery employed in its recall. Words, through 
whatever imaginal channel recalled, are, in the nature of 
the case, almost invariably symbolic so far as concerns the 
objects, acts, or events to which they refer. Thus the word 
'dog,' whether it be seen or heard or spoken, whether it 
come into the mind as a sensorial or an imaginal process, 
bears no more resemblance to the actual animal so named, 
than it does to any other object whatsoever. It is a mere 
symbol and the French word, chien, or the German word, 
Hund, will serve the purpose quite as well, although neithei^ 
bears the remotest resemblance to the English word. 

Productive Imagination. — Productive imagination is 
obviously the form which we employ for anticipating the 
future and for freeing ourselves from a merely slavish 
adherence to past experience. It goes without saying that 
great scientific inventions, like great works of art, rest upon 
the powers of constructive imagination. The actual 
imagery employed may be of any kind whatever, although 
certain forms are obviously more significant than others 
for particular arts, e.g., visual images for painting and 
sculpture, auditory and motor for music. What is not so 
clear, but nevertheless equally true, is that all constructive 
thinking, from the most practical to the most theoretical, 
involves the utilization of productive imagination. This 
matter will be touched upon in a later chapter. The only 
qualification which needs to be imposed at this point relates 
to the generally accepted fact that practical results of 
crucial consequence occasionally arise as the outcome of 
brain processes in the cerebrum Vv^hich are not necessarily 
represented in the field of conscious imagination at all. 
The results, but not the process by which they are brought 
about, appear in the mental field. The sudden flashes of 



160 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

insight, the solution of problems temporarily given up and 
forgotten, are illustrations of the sort of thing referred to. 

It remains to examine some of the principles determining 
the sequence of the successive links in a chain of thoughts 
or images. This is a problem which has interested every 
generation of psychologists, from Aristotle dov/n to the 
present time. 

The Association of Ideas. — That ideas which have for 
any reason been connected with one another in the past 
tend to hang together, so that if one presents itself to the 
mind the others tend to come with it, has attracted again 
and again the attention of even superficial observers. In 
like fashion the tendencies of ideas to suggest others which ' 
resemble them has repeatedly been noticed. Psychologists 
have tried on the one hand to analyze and describe all the 
actual principles which thus unite ideas, and on the other 
to ascertain if possible the causes bringing these results to 
pass. We shall comment briefly on both aspects of the 
situation. 

The dominant tendency today is to seek for an interpre- 
tation of association in terms of the activity of the brain 
and nervous system. We have already commented upon 
the view that retention is primarily a physiological func- 
tion, a property of the nervous system. As nervous excite- 
ment is generated in the sense organ by a stimulus of one 
or another kind, it is passed forward through the central 
nervous system until finally it makes its appearance in the 
field of muscular movement. The precise pathway tra- 
versed by such a nervous impulse will of course depend 
upon the permeability of the chains of neurones, especially 
at the synaptic junctions where one neurone comes in con- 
tact with another. Thus a stimulus upon the skin of the 



IMAGINATION 161 

hand may be immediately converted in the spinal cord into 
a reflex impulse moving the hand ; or the impulse may be 
transmitted up into the cerebral cortex, thence to reappear 
in a movement of the entire body. Which of these conse- 
quences follows will depend upon the resistance at the 
synapses, and this resistance, other things equal, will be 
low if the pathway has been frequently used before. In 
other words, previously established habits will be influential 
in determining what shall occur. 

Presumably the same principles which determine the 
course of a sensory impulse through the nervous centers to 
a muscle, control the action of the cerebral cortex when 
thinking of any kind is in progress. It is quite certain that 
the nervous currents will tend to flow in the direction 
where the synaptic resistance is lowest. Clearly a consid- 
erable number of factors may enter in to determine these 
resistances. For instance, if an extensive system of neu- 
rones is already in an excited condition, the resistance in 
such a system is likely to be lower than in an inactive 
system. Again, there is good reason to believe that a chain 
of neurones which has been recently excited presents a con- 
dition of lowered resistance relatively to other chains which 
have been more remotely stimulated. Again, the evidence 
is entirely conclusive that such a chain, if repeatedly 
excited, tends to take on an almost reflex character, AJl 
these considerations and some others can be translated into 
psychological terms of imagery and ideas, and this we may 
at once proceed to do. Let it not be forgotten, however, 
that these principles were first worked out by a study of 
the strictly mental processes. More recently a certain 
amount of direct neurological evidence has been gathered, 
and present day tendencies, as stated above, favor a rec- 



162 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

ognition of the neural principles as basic for an under- 
standing of the temporal order taken by thoughts. 

Association and the Law of Habit. — All the principles 
of association may be considered aiS in one way or another 
expressions of the general law of habit. Frequency of 
connection is the most obvious instance of the principle. 
Ideas which have been frequently united tend to recall 
one another at the expense of less frequently connected 
thoughts. The date 1492 is in this way associated with 
Columbus. Intensity in an experience may serve to bind 
permanently together psychological elements that other- 
wise would never suggest one another. The thoughts of 
the several moments of a very terrifying experience, e.g., 
escape from a sinking ship, may thus become permanently 
fused. Again, the recency of a conjunction may bring it 
about that the train of ideas reflects this connection, rather 
than others which have been more frequent, and even some 
which may have been more intense. 

Evidently these three factors, if they were the only influ- 
ences at work, might make it substantially impossible to 
predict in a given case what associations should actually 
dominate, because it might well occur that a particular idea 
a should have been frequently connected with Z), recently 
connected with c, and at some remote time vividly con- 
nected with d. Synaptic conditions would therefore permit 
that the idea a should lead to h, c, or d. Which one actually 
succeeds a will depend upon the momentary condition of 
the brain, which we have no means of determining. Mean- 
time, it is clear enough that the sequence of ideas is deter- 
mined by perfectly definite causes, even if we are not in a 
position to state in a given case just what they are. 

Undoubtedly among the most important determining 



IMAGINATION 163 

factors are our interests, temporary or permanent, and our 
emotional mood. If our minds are preoccupied with some 
exciting or entertaining train of thought, it is practically 
impossible for ideas connected with wholly different topics 
to arise. Similarly if we are in the clutch of any strong 
emotion, only such ideas as are relevant to its course can 
get a hearing, or indeed, can reach the field of conscious- 
ness at all. On the side of the brain the presence of an 
emotion or of an active interest involves the activity of 
considerable groups of neurones belonging to connected 
systems. 

No account of association would be correct which implied 
that the succession of ideas one upon another could be 
explained in terms of single ideas. For example, the fact 
that idea h follows idea a is probably never completely to 
be accounted for by the presence of a alone. Certainly in 
all ordinary instances the appearance of h is due to the 
entire context amid which a appears. Thus the idea wood 
brings up an entirely different group of associates when it 
occurs in connection with the search for fuel and in con- 
nection with an examination of furniture. The memory of 
words affords innumerable instances of the same kind of 
thing. 

The Association of Similars. — Few forms of association 
have attracted more attention, and perhaps none is more 
significant for human thought processes, than that of 
resemblance, or similarity. The older writers on psychol- 
ogy used to group the various forms of association under 
the headings contiguity in space and time, similarity, con- 
trast, cause, and effect. The reader will readily recognize 
that we have already in substance dealt with the case of 
contiguity and to some extent with that of cause and effect. 



164 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

In our original comments upon association were cited 
instances in which ideas which had previously occurred 
together, or in immediate succession, tended to recall one 
another. Associations involving contrast, e.g., black-white, 
large-small, etc., are closely related to the cases of con- 
tiguity and we shall not pause to discuss them, but a few 
further words must be devoted to associations involving 
similarity. 

It is in this type of associative sequence that we seem to 
break most completely with past experience and seem to 
achieve freshness and originality in the order of our 
thought. It has often been said, and probably with much 
truth, that it is our wide and subtle use of this kind of 
associative nexus which marks us off most unequivocally 
from the animals. Ideas which are similar may recall one 
another, even though they have never before been in any 
way immediately conjoined in a thought process. The 
resuscitation of ideas which have been contiguous in previ- 
ous experience affords an obvious illustration of the opera- 
tion of the law of habit, but the association of similars 
seems at first sight to violate this principle absolutely. An 
instance or two of the type of thing involved may profitably 
be cited. 

When we are walking on the street, we may pass a person 
whom we know to be a stranger, but whose face we at once 
feel resembles th^t of an acquaintance. Sometimes we are 
able to recall and identify the suggested individual, but in 
other instances we may be quite at a loss thus to place the 
resemblance. In such circumstances the order of events is 
as follows: (1) perception of stranger, (2) feeling of 
familiarity or resemblance, (3) thought of the suggested 
person. The third step is, as we have just remarked, some- 



IMAGINATION 165 

times wanting. Just the same sort of sequence of events 
may occur when an idea or an image, rather than a per- 
ceived object, initiates the train of associations. Another 
type of G>ase is represented by having one idea succeed 
another in the mind, whereupon we then notice a similarity 
between them. For example, while looking at a painting, 
the memory of another suddenly comes into the mind, and 
at once we remark their similarity to one another. In this 
case the appreciation of similarity occurs after the com- 
pletion of the association, instead of as a preliminary step 
in the process. 

The neural explanation which is now generally accepted 
for associations of the similarity type involves the suppo- 
sition that thoughts which resemble one another involve 
brain processes which at some point have identical ele- 
ments. This means that if two individuals really resemble 
one another we shall, in perceiving them, employ to some 
extent identical nervous pathways. Consequently, when 
the idea of one of them is again experienced, the brain 
processes involved will be in part the same as those 
brought into action when the thought of the second comes 
into the mind. There will thus be the possibility, from the 
neural point of view, that one of these brain systems may, 
when active, suddenly stir up the other. Strictly speaking, 
such a process seems to involve a departure from the usual 
habitual type of nervous activity, but it clearly frees us 
from the necessity of admitting that the succession of 
thoughts is frequently, if indeed, ever, altogether and com- 
pletely novel. Some connection in previous experience is 
on this theory always to be discerned in associations of 
ideas. 

All the great minds, especially those of the scientific and 



166 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

artistic kind, are apparently marked by a very high develop- 
ment of the capacity of association of similars. This is 
particularly true of poets, the witchery of whose verse is 
often in large measure due to the subtle delicacy of 
metaphors resting upon the use of resemblance, in forms 
wholly foreign to the prosaic mind. 

" yet his eyelids 
Widened a little, as when Zephyr bids 
A little breeze to creep between the fans 
Of careless butterflies:" 

Certain it is that the great constructive achievements of 
science and philosophy make the most drastic demands 
upon the mind for a large use of this type of association. 
It is also not without interest that a certain variety of 
association of similars characterizes the thinking of little 
children and persons with disordered minds. In these 
latter cases the associations are devoid of fundamental sig- 
nificance, and in consequence lead to little or no practical 
result. Wit and humor depend largely on similarity asso- 
ciations, with the pun as perhaps the lowest form. In 
other words, the great accomplishments of human intelli- 
gence require not simply the use of similarity, but a nice 
sense for the distinction between those forms of it which 
are really pregnant and those which are futile. 

The Training of Imagery. — Attention has been called 
at an earlier point in the chapter to the fact that indi- 
viduals vary as regards their control over different kinds 
of imagery and as regards their native preferences in the 
use of one kind or another in their thinking. It will be 
recognized that within limits there may well be consid- 
erable advantage in the ability to use special kinds of 



IMAGINATION 167 

imagery in the solution of particular sorts of problems. 
The question naturally arises, therefore, whether one can 
train imagery, and if so, how to go about it. 

The best experimental evidence seems to show that a 
very considerable development of specific imagery may be 
achieved by the voluntary attempt to make use of it, pro- 
vided there be a reasonable body of it available to start 
with. One can thus by very little effort develop visual 
imagery by compelling one's self, for example, to solve 
simple geometrical problems by means of such images. 
Nobody has as yet hit upon any reliable method for eliciting 
imagery which is at the outset substantially lacking. 
Owing to our ability to substitute one form for another, 
it is found very difficult to create conditions which in any 
complete way compel us to use a particular type. 

It is not without interest in connection with this general 
question of training imagery to note that the forms of 
imagery which are preferred do not necessarily correspond 
to the sensory processes which are preferred. One may, 
for example, learn most easily by the ear, and still make 
little use of auditory imagery; or one may learn most 
readily through the eye and yet rely but little upon visual 
imagery for recall. 

After all, the great point is that whatever forms of 
imagery one employs, they shall be flexible and reliable. 
Practice is the only road which one can travel to secure 
these ends. 

In concluding this chapter two curious groups of phe- 
nomena relating to imagery may be mentioned. The first 
known as synaesthesia might just as properly have been 
mentioned in connection with perception. 

Synaesthesias. — When the ordinary person hears words 



168 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

spoken, or hears musical sounds, the perception is domi- 
nantly auditory, and while various other sense experiences 
may be suggested by the sound, no one of them is in any 
way so vivid as the auditory. But for certain persons the 
sounds produce forthwith a consciousness of color. The 
colors are sometimes of sensory vividness. More often they 
resemble imagery in texture. But they come instantly and 
blend with the sounds, and are native, not acquired. More- 
over, they are substantially constant, the same shades 



^Q. 30^ 



10 12, 



Fig. 49. 

always occurring with the same tones or words. The 
auditory-visual synaesthesias are the most frequent, but 
other senses are sometimes involved, particularly taste. 

Number Forms. — The second peculiarity has no single 
name but is illustrated by the so-called 'number forms.' 
Sir Francis Galton gives a most entertaining and instruc- 
tive account of them and of the synaesthesias in his 
Inquiries into Human Faculty. The number form is a 
graphic mental picture (see Fig. 49) used by its possessor 
to exhibit numerical relations. The numbers are mentally 
projected in a sort of visual frame and are always thought 



IMAGINATION 169 

of in this way. The months of the year are often placed 
in such forms, although of quite different shape, and many 
other instances of the same tendency might be cited. The 
number forms, however, by their amazing variety, intricacy, 
and early appearance in childhood present the appearance 
of being natural phenomena, not invented or consciously 
adopted, while most of the others suggest artificial inven- 
tion for amusement, the adoption of forms actually seen, 
or perhaps involve an effort to render concrete in visual 
form, something abstract not to be otherwise so easily 
memorized. 



CHAPTER X 
REASONING 

Having analyzed separately and in some detail several 
of the main divisions of adjnstive mental processes, e.g., 
sensation, perception, memory, and imagination, we must 
now examine the concrete processes of actual thinking, in 
which all of these are involved. Practical thinking is never 
comprised merely of memory processes or imaginings or 
perceivings taken singly. It implicates all of them in one 
way or another. 

Adjustment as Problem Solving. — In the opening 
chapters of the book, we dwelt at some length upon the 
conception of organic life and intelligence as a process of 
adjustment. We must now return to that same conception 
and connect it with the process of thinking, which is 
another name for problem solving. "We shall turn first to 
a scrutiny of certain typical forms of problems which con- 
front us in ordinary life, and then inquire what are the 
usual varieties of conscious procedure in meeting and mas- 
tering such difficulties. 

The earliest and the most persistent kinds of problems 
are connected with the immediate maintenance of life. In 
infancy the gratification of hunger and thirst are cared for 
almost wholly by reflex activities, which, thanks to parental 
supervision, make practically no tax upon the child's own 
intelligence. A little later, however, there present them- 
selves great groups of problems connected with the control 

170 



REASONING 171 

of the bodily muscles. These are mastered by a slow process 
of Hrial and error' (or 'try, try again,') certain details 
of which we shall have occasion to discuss a little later in 
our account of the development of voluntary control. Pass- 
ing over these achievements, we may come at once to the 
sort of problem which confronts the child after he has 
learned to walk and talk and exercise a reasonable control 
over his movements. 

The earliest forms are undoubtedly those which involve- 
the child's adjustment to his physical surroundings and to 
other human beings. He has to learn by actual experience 
the size and the weight of objects ; to test his strength and 
endurance in terms of the resistance afforded by them; to 
learn their relations to one another. With human beings, 
he must master the intricacies of deportment, and must 
establish a nice discrimination for the prejudices of par- 
ticular individuals in a position to punish or reward him 
for success or failure in complying with their demands. 
Problems of these kinds do not at the outset call for any 
very elaborate processes of reflection. Life is cast in a 
decidedly experimental mold for the child at this stage. He 
cannot predict what will occur, and he is thrown back upon 
an actual test, for the making of which he has abundant 
instinctive incentive. 

The Primitive Tendency to Generalize. — The striking 
characteristic of the mental reaction of the child in this 
experimental process is his deeply rooted disposition to 
expect that both people and things will behave in the future 
as they have in the past. He is an incorrigible generalizer, 
and only the bitter fruits of experience teach him after a 
time to cultivate an attitude of skepticism, until his knowl- 
edge of both man and beast can be relied upon for purposes 



172 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

of prediction. In this matter he is not unlike primitive 
man when full grown. It will cost generations of scientific 
training to breed out this disposition to generalize on inade- 
quate data. 

* Trial and Error' Method in Thinking. — Another 
striking feature of the early types of adjustive process is 
their strong tendency toward the relatively random 'trial 
and error' procedure! A little child confronted by a gate 
which will not open is very likely to react, much as a dog 
might, with violent assaults upon the impeding barrier and 
with little or no attempt to discover and relieve the precise 
difficulty. Even at a later stage, when the problems which 
present themselves are more definitely intellectual in char- 
acter, there may be much of this same random trial and 
error method of arriving at conclusions. In any event, 
practically all the problems of early childhood present 
themselves as relatively simple, concrete issues, such as a 
particular cake to be secured, a particular door to be 
opened, a particular parent to be cajoled. The solution is 
in turn apt to be some relatively simple concrete act, and 
the trick is to discover it. In familiar situations, the 
answer may be given almost instantly after the nature of 
the problem is recognized. In other cases there is nothing 
for it but to try now this and now that solution which may 
suggest itself. There may be little or no attempt to weigh 
the probable success or failure of any of the suggestions in 
advance of an actual test. 

The result of this type of thinking is apt to be the accep- 
tance, as a permanent mode of procedure, of the first solu- 
tion that comes to hand. This may by accident be the best 
solution, but more often it is not, and thus it comes about 
that in carrying out a definite reaction, the child, like an 



REASONING 173 

animal, may incorporate and maintain in it many quite 
useless elements. In learning to write, for example, which 
is a type of process usually carried out under instruction, 
and therefore under conditions much more favorable than 
those we have been discussing, children maintain indefi- 
nitely quite needless contortions of face and limb, con- 
tributing nothing at all to the elegance or effectiveness of 
their chirography. 

Conception and the Analysis of the Problem. — In all 
the cases thus far mentioned, we have assumed that the 
problem which the child has to face is more or less imposed 
upon him by the circumstances of the situation. Such prob- 
lems are caused by the appearance of any obstacles in the 
path which he is following, and whether physical or mental, 
they disclose at once their essential nature. A little later, 
quite a different set of circumstances is encountered, in 
which it becomes necessary first to determine with exactness 
the real character of the problem which is to be solved, 
and thereupon to proceed to its solution. Social life is full 
of experiences of this kind. One becomes aware that 
for some undefined reason things are not going welL 
Before the cure can be applied, one must analyze the situa- 
tion and determine, if possible, at what point the difficulty 
is located. In many types of scientific problem the same 
situation is encountered, and before one can move toward 
a solution, one must first make sure of the real nature of 
the trouble. 

This identification of the character of the difficulty 
plainly consists in connecting it with some previous and 
familiar experience. Psychologists speak of this process as 
'conceiving' the situation in a particular way. In the 
case of many purely intellectual problems this description 



174 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

is appropriate enough, but in cases where the situation is 
primarily one of sense perception, as in the inspection of a 
disabled machine where one wishes to discover the defect 
and repair it, the location of the difficulty may not seem 
so naturally to justify the term conceiving. Nevertheless 
the character of the process is at bottom essentially the 
same, and we may neglect such differences as arise between 
the wholly ideational and the partly perceptual forms. 

Stages in Problem Solving. — To conceive aright the 
difficulty with which one is confronted is, then, in a think- 
ing process, the first essential step tow^ard a solution. In 
certain very simple types of problem, the solution may 
come almost immediately, as has been intimated in a pre- 
ceding paragraph. For instance, a new door key fails to 
throw the lock. It occurs to us that possibly it should be 
withdrawn a trifle from the guard, whereupon it instantly 
works. In more complex problems (and these would be 
represented in almost all the more serious reflective forms 
of thinking), the correct conception of the difficulty (which 
may itself be secured only after much effort) leads at once 
by the process of association, to a survey of one after 
another of the ideas which are suggested as possible solu- 
tions. The thought process, then, which has commonly 
been called reasoning, involves as its flrst two stages 

(a) the correct concept of the problem or difficulty, and 

(b) the securing, by means of association, of an idea which 
will meet the difficulty. Evidently the thought which gives 
us the solution may come only after a long process, in which 
many ideas offer themselves and are turned away as inef- 
fective. This process of selection and rejection rests upon 
a psychological activity which psychologists have generally 
designated judgment. 



REASONING 175 

A final step which is involved in an entirely complete 
process of reasoning is known as proof, and consists in the 
organization of one's evidence in such fashion as to estab- 
lish the correctness of the solution upon which one has 
pitched. We shall comment upon certain phases of this 
matter a little later in the chapter. Let us return for a 
moment to consider the first two stages which are peculiar 
to every bona fide thinking process. 

The Nature of the Concept. — If we stop a thought 
process and examine that part of it in which we are con- 
fronted with a concept, we shall find that commonly this 
consists in some significant image or group of images. If, 
for instance, in a geometrical problem, one has occasion to 
use the concept 'triangle,' many persons will find that there 
arises in the mind a more or less distinct visual image of 
a triangle, which serves in the thought process to represent 
the relations peculiar to that special geometrical form. 
Other kinds of objects or relations may also be conceptually 
symbolized by other forms of visual imagery. But undoubt- 
edly far the most frequent type of imagery employed for 
thought processes is linguistic. Such images may be audi- 
tory or visual or motor, and the apparently motor forms 
may in fact be actual, though partly suppressed, enuncia- 
tions, and not real images at all. The special sensorial 
form is entirely indifferent, but the use of words as thought 
material is by no means indifferent, as a moment's con- 
sideration will clearly disclose. 

Words as the Material of Thought. — In the first place, 
the word, in distinction from the object or the relation to 
which it refers, is relatively free from the limitations of 
particularity. It can be used to cover any one of dozens 
of particular instances without prejudice to its accuracy. 



176 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

The word dog, for example, is as applicable to the New- 
foundland as to the poodle, to the terrier as to the hound, 
to the dog seen today as to the one seen a year ago. Con- 
sequently the word image 'dog' (whatever sensorial form 
it appears in) is measurably free from any disturbing 
limitations of particular animals or particular times and 
places. If one wishes, therefore, to have a thought symbol 
which may be used with great freedom as a general term, 
the advantages of the linguistic form over others are evi- 
dent. A moment's reflection will also make clear that just 
this kind of generality in a concept is of the utmost value 
in thinking. It serves to represent the essential features 
common to all the objects, or all the relations, of a class 
in a way which no single instance of either the objects or 
relations could so conveniently give. There is no difficulty 
in attaching any desired particularity to a linguistic image 
by the use of other modifying word-forms — adjectives, 
adverbs, and the like. 

Again, the fact that communication between men goes on 
chiefly in the form of words has an important bearing on 
the matter. To be sure gestures, of which spoken words 
are the most highly developed form, are also employed for 
this purpose, as they are among animals. By using lan- 
guage as the material of thought we carry on our individual 
thinking in the same medium which we use to communicate 
our ideas to others. Were this not the case we should have 
to translate our thought back and forth from one medium 
to the other. We should be obliged, as it were, to make 
constant use of two languages, one for thinking and one 
for communicating. When we remark the overwhelming 
preponderance of social interests and social relations in 
our lives, the advantage of the use of a single medium 



REASONING 177 

for both of these purposes is obvious. Indeed, some 
psychologists maintain that the thought process arises 
out of social situations and would not otherwise 
appear. 

Other Materials of Thought. — Many people apparently 
make large use of motor attitudes and images for handling 
these conceptual situations. To persons whose thinking is 
not cast in such terms, it is hard to make clear in just what 
materials such thought goes forward. But to revert to the 
illustration of the triangle, persons of the motor type 
would, instead of employing either visual or verbal mate- 
rial, find themselves tending perhaps to make the move- 
ments of the hand necessary to trace the triangle, or simi- 
larly tending to follow with nascent movements of the head 
or eyes the outlines of the form. 

In any case, that form of imagery (visual, auditory, 
motor, etc.,) natural to the individual tends to dominate 
his method of thought. Experiments have shown with es- 
sential conclusiveness that an individual may use one type 
of imagery for one kind of problem, and quite another 
type for problems of a different sort. The writer, for 
example, in trying to solve a geometrical problem without 
the use of pencil and paper inevitably falls back upon 
visual imagery, constructing in his mind just such figures 
as he would actually draw if the materials were at hand. 
But in dealing with a problem involving consideration of 
some academic issue, e.g., the point at which modern lan- 
guages may best be introduced into the school curriculum, 
his thinking would tend to take the form of auditory-motor 
language imagery. There would be a sort of mental debate 
carried on. Peculiarities of this kind will serve to illus- 
trate the difficulty of making any sweeping statement about 



178 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

the predominance in a given mind of any one kind of 
imagery. 

In actual thinking, our ideas are apt to move forward 
so rapidly that it is often difficult to be sure what forms 
of thought material are being used. But a little introspec- 
tive practice will readily identify them, especially if one 
select for examination processes in which one is dealing 
with very difficult issues where the progress is slow. 

Non-Conscious Elements in Problem Solving. — It may 
perhaps be mentioned at this point that a highly important 
part of many thinking processes is in no proper sense con- 
scious at all, but is cerebralistic, or physiological. This 
applies perhaps more to the stage of the mental operations 
next to be mentioned, but it is measurably true of them all. 
To illustrate, one is suddenly confronted by a difficult 
problem, and one says : ' ' Let me think a moment ' ' ; where- 
upon the brow is wrinkled, the breathing is checked, and 
all the external symptoms are those of profound abstrac- 
tion, one may even say that one is 'thinking hard.' During 
the whole process, so far as concerns any strictly conscious 
process, the mind may have been essentially a blank, a mere 
vacuum ; and yet at the expiration of a moment or two one 
may give utterance to a perfectly sane solution of the prob- 
lem, or there may come into the mind a group of ideas satis- 
factorily meeting the difficulty for which one then seeks 
appropriate expression. This kind of non-conscious think- 
ing has probably led certain psychologists to the belief in 
what they call 'imageless thought.' There is no objection 
to this phrase, provided it be not interpreted as meaning 
that we have a form of awareness of meanings which is 
entirely devoid either of imaginal or of sensory bases. The 
present writer does not believe that there is any convincing 



REASONING 179 

evidence of this type of thing, whereas the subconscious 
brain process is frequently responsible for the solution of 
difficulties. Such solutions are reached both when asleep 
and when awake. 

The extent to which thought is really carried on in uncon- 
scious form is a subject of wide disagreement. But not a 
few of our ablest psychologists are disposed to urge not 
only that some of our thinking is unconscious, but also that 
practically all of it which is fundamentally significant goes 
on in this way. It is easy for anyone who speaks readily 
to gain convincing evidence that the particular words used 
to express a thought were often in no sense mentally an- 
ticipated just prior to their actual use. The field of 
pathological phenomena is full of instances tending to 
suggest the same general conclusion, i.e., that large parts 
of our so-called thought processes are in no proper sense 
definitely conscious. 

The Use of Relations, Especially Similarity, in Think- 
ing. — Arrived at the second stage in our reflective opera- 
tions, and assuming that a satisfactory concept of the 
problems has been formed, we revert to the associative 
mechanism by means of which the conceptual imagery 
brings before us ideas to be scrutinized and tested as solu- 
tions of the problem confronting us. This is the point at 
which the supreme value of similarity is encountered. If 
we were confined to the use merely of ideas suggested by 
contiguity in previous time and place, the solution of any 
given problem would depend solely upon whether or not 
our own past experience had chanced to anticipate this 
special difficulty, so that the reexcitement of the previously 
associated ideas might serve as a solution in the present 
instance. Thanks to the use of similarity, as between either 



180 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

objects or relations, we are, however, enabled to transcend 
these limitations of particular time and place and to draw 
upon the entire resources of our previous life, without re- 
gard to any special space and time sequences. This simi- 
larity link (covering many forms of relations) enables us 
by an essentially creative process to bring into context with 
one another portions of experiences separated by months 
and even years of time, and thus permits us to make them 
supplement one another in the solution of our difficulties. 

In simple problems, as has been mentioned, the mere 
appearance of the crucial idea may carry with it a satis- 
factory solution. This would be true, for example, in any 
problem, such as that of certain puzzles, where the solution 
consists in the discovery of a particular word. But in other 
problems, there is often need for the selection of first one 
and then another idea and the combining of these into a 
significant whole, comprising the complete solution. This 
type of thing is represented in many mathematical prob- 
lems, and in many economic and political issues, where a 
considerable group of factors and their mutual relations 
to one another must be kept in mind. In other words, there 
is not only need in a complicated reasoning process for 
ready, profuse, and subtle associations, but a continuous 
process of selection and rejection is also indispensable until 
the finally successful combination is achieved. 

There is no royal road to success in this matter, no ready- 
made rules which can be learned and applied forthwith. 
Practice within a given field undoubtedly produces a cer- 
tain skill, but unless one's experience furnishes the requi- 
site ideas, there can be no solution of the problem; and 
even if the ideas are available, for successful thinking there 
must be a certain dextrous control of the processes of 



REASONING 181 

choosing and rejecting. Otherwise the thought will be 
cumbrous and ineffective. 

The Habit Element in Thought.— Thus far, our 
analysis has been couched in terms which suggest the solv- 
ing of particular problems without regard to their bearing 
upon further problematic situations. As a matter of fact, 
in the adjustive processes of the simple organism, to which 
the reader 's attention was directed in the opening chapters 
of the book, as well as in the more complicated thought of 
human beings, the formation of habits of response is con- 
stantly in process. In the thought process this fact of 
habit is reflected partly in the concept and partly in certain 
'general principles' of which we make use. 

Attention was called at an earlier point to the intrinsic 
organic tendency to repeat on the second presentation of 
a stimulus the reaction made on its first appearance, pro- 
vided this reaction had been satisfactory. This was spoken 
of as resulting in a generalizing tendency, and while there 
are no doubt exceptions, there is also no doubt that this is 
the usual rule. The concept may be regarded as the gen- 
eralized form of a psychological reaction, and as such it 
tends in its turn to lead to a definite form of motor 
response. The concept tahle serves as a cue to a gen- 
eralized type of motor adjustment. It represents for us an 
object in whose presence, regardless of any trifling indi- 
vidual peculiarities, we can do certain standard things, 
e.g., write upon it, serve food upon it, etc. The concepts 
of all common classes of objects render us similar service, 
and the same thing is true of the concepts of the more 
familiar relations, such as those of time and space. The 
concept ahove, the concept heloiv, both stand for certain 
kinds of motor adjustment. The concept earlier or the 



182 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

concept later similarly stand for a certain temporal arrange- 
ment of our behavior. In general it may be said that, 
although primarily psychological so far as concerns the 
medium in which they exist, concepts are hona fide habits 
and tend to express themselves eventually in motor forms. 

The same thing is true of general principles, e.g., water 
will not rise above its source, men are stronger than 
women, etc. Indeed, the general principle is really little 
more than a concept expanded by verbal means into a 
formula for conduct. Thus, the principle in accordance 
with which, in a process of multiplication, one carries for- 
ward toward the left all but the right-hand digit in each 
partial product, is obviously a rule of procedure which 
rests upon the conception of the process of multiplying. 
The general principle which formulates the observed rota- 
tion of planetary bodies in elliptical orbits is again an 
expression of a mode of procedure which could be called 
a concept almost as well as a general principle. Similarly 
the principle of gravity formulates the behavior of bodies 
in their mass relations to one another in a fashion which 
could as appropriately be designated a concept as a general 
principle. Many instances might be cited of the use of 
general principles, taking them either from the range of 
science or of practical life, but in each case we should find 
the same thing true. 

Following the example set by writers on logic, psycholo- 
gists have been wont in connection Avith their analyses of 
reasoning to give some attention to the two processes known 
respectively as induction and deduction. Without attempt- 
ing to enter with any detail upon the problems thus pre- 
sented, we may venture a few brief comments. 

Inductive Thinking. — Induction is a name for the 



REASONING 183 

process by which we arrive at such general principles as 
those which we have just mentioned. The result, when 
attained, evidently has the value of a 'habit' of thought 
or behavior, which we are then able to use much as we do 
our motor habits, in a more or less automatic way, and at 
least without serious reflection. Thus, in thinking about 
the behavior of physical objects, we do not find it neces- 
sary to stop and speculate upon the tendency of unsus- 
pended masses to fall to the surface of the earth. This 
habit of theirs, which we refer to gravity, we take for 
granted whenever occasion demands. 

There are various ways in which we come into possession 
of these general principles. (1) Many of them are sup- 
plied to us by our elders, or by books, in the process of our 
formal education. (2) Others we come gradually to acquire 
for ourselves in a sort of rough-and-tumble mental process 
well represented in the harsher experiences of life. With- 
out any special reflection on the subject, we learn in this 
way that hot objects will burn, that sharp ones will cut, 
and that smooth ones are agreeable to the touch. These 
experiences we convert more or less promptly into gen- 
eralized motor reactions as we have previously indicated, 
and at the same time we are very apt to translate them 
directly into intellectual terms as principles to be used 
when needed in our thinking. 

(3) Differing from both these methods is another peculiar 
to the more abstract generalizations of the sciences. These 
are based upon much more elaborate trains of thought and 
upon much subtler inferences. The whole process involves 
a more specific purpose to formulate and justify the prin- 
ciples involved, than is the case in either of the first two 
methods by which we achieve generalizations. Darwin's 



184 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

establishment of the evolutionary hypothesis in regard to 
organic life may serve as an illustration of this higher form 
of generalization. It would take us too far into logical 
considerations to attempt to explain the various grounds 
on which the validity of scientific inductive inferences has 
been based and we must pass on to other matters. 

Deduction. — Over against induction which represents 
broadly the process of habit formation in the region of 
thinking, stands deduction, which represents the applica- 
tion of JiaMts already estaUislied. After we have formu- 
lated and demonstrated such a general principle as that of 
gravity, we can at once infer deductively the behavior of 
any specific set of masses under specific conditions. A very 
large part of our practical thinking is directed to determin- 
ing the particular principle or concept under which a 
specific instance is to be brought. When this is determined, 
the consequences follow almost automatically. Nowhere, 
perhaps, is this type of procedure more frequently met 
with than in the case of moral issues. Here we often find 
it difficult to classify a particular act. Once we can be 
perfectly clear that it is to be put under such a heading 
as 'lying' or 'stealing,' the practical consequences for our 
thinking or our conduct immediately follow. But until we 
are certain what classification to apply, our thought is held 
in suspense. 

Combination of Induction and Deduction in Practical 
Thinking. — It is a common misapprehension to suppose 
that our thinking is either exclusively inductive or exclu- 
sively deductive. In actual fact, practical thinking com- 
monly involves both types of process in somewhat intimate 
admixture. We make use of general principles and we 
set about the forming of new ones all in the course of the 



REASONING 185 

attempt to solve a particular problem. This does not mean 
that we are overtly conscious of the intention to apply a 
general principle or to create a new one, but simply that 
in dealing with practical issues we do, in point of fact, 
carry on parts of our thinking by way of applying concepts 
and general principles, and other parts of it in such a 
fashion as to create the beginning of a new general prin- 
ciple, or a new conception. This fact will be readily 
enough appreciated if it is compared with the correspond- 
ing motor situation, where in making use of an already 
acquired habit like writing, we employ it to deal with a 
fresh problem. In so far as we solve this, we gain posses- 
sion to some extent of a new capacity, which we can in turn 
at a later time employ more or less in the habitual way. 

The Reasoning Powers of Animals. — In concluding 
this chapter, a few words upon the reasoning powers of 
brutes may be of interest. The writers of a generation ago 
were disposed to contrast instinct with reasoning as two 
radically distinct and essentially opposed characteristics. 
Sometimes they urged that brutes were guided solely by 
instinct, whereas man, although at times under the domina- 
tion of instinct, was chiefly controlled by motives of a 
rational kind. Always, however, there have been portrayers 
of animal behavior who insisted that wild animals in par- 
ticular, but all animals to some extent, made use of proc- 
esses essentially like those of human reason. Few neigh- 
borhoods are wholly free of dogs or cats, which, if their 
owners may be believed, evince at times all but superhuman 
intelligence. To be sure, these Nietszchean super-brutes 
have rarely been caught in the act by critical outsiders, 
but their conduct soon passes into a neighborhood myth and 
is accepted more or less uncritically at its face value. 



186 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

•It has been the ungracious duty of contemporary experi- 
mental observation to strip from the brute world most of 
the anecdotal laurels which the previous generation had 
accorded. When subjected to thorough-going scientific 
observation under controlled conditions, it becomes quite 
certain that whatever may be true of the occasional genius 
among animals, at least the rank and file of those lower in 
type than the apes solve their problems by methods which 
are in no sense identical with those of reflective human 
thought. 

The common method of conducting such experiments is 
to place the animal in a situation which requires it to solve 
some simple problem appropriate to its supposed capacities 
and as closely as possible simulating the conditions with 
which it has to cope in its natural habitat. This problem 
is generally so arranged as to have the securing of food 
hinge upon its solution. This would mean, for example, 
that rats and mice would be obliged to find their way 
through a tortuous set of paths to their food which they 
could not see, but the odor of which could readily reach 
them. Animals of all degrees of complexity, from the very 
simple marine animals, like amphioxus, up to the higher 
quadrupeds and the anthropoid apes, including on the way 
both reptiles and birds, have been subjected to experimental 
investigation. 

A wholly unexpected wealth of new information has been 
accumulated as the result of studies of this kind, and our 
knowledge of animal instinct and of many features of 
animal behavior has been immeasurably enlarged. But at 
no point have we come upon conclusive evidence that ani- 
mals can in any definite way abstract the essential point 
in a problem and then bring to bear upon it in the mind 



REASONING 187 

the fruits of experience, as can a human being. Under 
experimental conditions at least the animal method of solv- 
ing a practical difficulty is substantially that of blind trial 
and error. All kinds of violent movements are made; the 
animal runs hither and yon, attacks the apparatus here, 
there, and elsewhere, and finally, as the result m.erely of 
its exuberant muscular activities, it succeeds in stumbling 
upon the solution. In a human being, even though the 
problem were solved the first time in some such manner^ 
the chances are that the solution could be repeated a second 
time almost immediately. But not so with the animal. The 
second trial may be somewhat shorter, or it may be longer. 
In either case the ability to reach a solution with certainty 
requires many repetitions and a considerable period of 
time. In other words, the animal gives no evidence of 
really comprehending the relation between the end to be 
reached and the several steps necessary to attain it. 

It would be too broad a statement to say that animals 
never perceive relations. Indeed, it is no doubt dangerous 
to make any sweeping statement without distinguishing the 
different genera and species from one another. For it goes 
without saying that the adaptive intelligence of the higher 
apes and of some of the other mammals, like the elephant, 
is far higher than that of the reptilian and cretaceous 
forms. But after making due allowance for these differ- 
ences inside the brute kingdom, it still remains true that 
in his ability to analyze, to abstract, and to generalize, and 
especially in his power to use language as an accessory to 
all these processes, man so far excels the animals as to 
render his behavior in many important particulars essen- 
tially different from theirs. Of course one does not mean 
in a statement of this kind to urge any radical discon- 



188 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tinuity of development between the higher animals and 
man, because the human child gives abundant evidence in 
its earlier years of behavior which is substantially identical 
with that of the animals. But one can allege that, consid- 
ering behavior as an expression of intelligence, the evolu- 
tionary break between man and the animals is far greater 
than would be suggested by a casual observation of their 
anatomical organization. To be sure, the human brain 
differs in important particulars from even the most highly 
developed animal brain. But the differences are not such 
as would ever have suggested the gross disparities in intel- 
ligence, which the study of behavior clearly discloses. 



CHAPTER XI 
FEELING 

Simple Feelings. — In our descriptions thus far of the 
adjnstive processes of intelligence, we have emphasized the 
sensations by means of which we come into contact with the 
world of physical objects and the ideas which serve to rep- 
resent these sensorial experiences when the originals are not 
present. This procedure has involved a temporary neglect 
of another group of factors of which mention was made at 
the outset, and to which we must now return. Psycholo- 
gists often refer to these as simple feelings, and although 
there are some serious objections to the term, it is perhaps 
as convenient as any other, and may for the time being, 
at least, be employed. 

When a stimulus falls upon a sense organ, it normally 
sets up a nervous excitation which is then transmitted into 
the central nervous system, whence it issues again as a mus- 
cular movement. But it is apt to occasion other conse- 
quences besides those thus described. It is likely immedi- 
ately to produce either pleasurable or painful results. A 
sound thus striking upon the ear may be sensed as agreeable 
or as disagreeable. Secondarily, the movement to which 
it gives rise may be followed by a subsequent group of sen- 
sations, in their turn agreeable or disagreeable. Thus, a 
visual object stimulates the retina, and the hand is extended 
to grasp it. If it be a thistle, or a burr, the disagreeable 
consequences are likely to be extremely vivid. Thus it 

189 



190 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

comes about that from the very beginning sensory stimula- 
tions are for the most part not indifferent, but already 
come freighted with prejudices, favorable or unfavorable, 
to their repetition. 

In the life of the lower types of animals, and in the 
experience of the human child, these psychological factors 
apparently play an extremely important part, and they 
must therefore be examined with some care. In adult 
human life, they become complicated with many other influ- 
ences, so that the immediacy of their operation is screened 
or lost. The little child or the animal will unhesitatingly 
seek to repeat the pleasurable stimulation as long as it 
remains agreeable, and will similarly shrink from the pain- 
ful stimulus. The adult human being, on the other hand, 
has learned that it is the part of wisdom to curtail the 
repetition of pleasurable experiences before satiety has 
been reached. He has also learned that the endurance of 
many forms of painful stimulation may be the price of 
more lasting or more satisfying future pleasures. In other 
words, experience complicates enormously the implications 
of the pleasure-pain experiences of primitive life. 

The Varieties of Simple Feeling. — Among recent 
writers there has been some divergence of opinion as to the 
number and character of these psychological elements. The 
great majority have recognized only pleasantness and un- 
pleasantness (physical pain, as was pointed out in Chapter 
VI, which may itself be at times agreeable, though it is 
commonly disagreeable, is undoubtedly a sensation). The 
eminent German psychologist Wundt recognizes two other 
groups of elements, w^hich he designates strain-relaxation 
and excitement-calm. These he thinks of as combining with 
one another in various ways, although only one member of 



FEELING 191 

each pair would ever be present in a single moment of 
experience. The American philosopher and psychologist, 
Josiah Royce, excludes strain-relaxation but accepts the 
other two Wundtian groups. The present writer, for rea- 
sons which he feels it unnecessary to discuss in detail, is 
disposed to adhere to the older view, and to treat pleasant- 
ness and unpleasantness as the only elements substantially 
different from sensation. Indeed, in his judgment there is 
a good deal of evidence to suggest, as not a few modern 
writers are now urging, that even these forms of experience 
are themselves vague, diffused, organic sensations. Even if 
this last doctrine should finally become established, it 
would still be convenient to accord a separate discussion 
to these factors in our mental make-up. 

Among other reasons, the view generally prevalent at 
present distinguishes from the sensations these two forms 
of simple feeling (1) psychologically, because they may 
attach themselves to any sensation or idea, and may vary 
independently, so that the same stimulus may on one occa- 
sion be felt as pleasurable and on another as unpleas- 
urable; and (2) physiologically, because they are thought 
of as arising not from the stimulation of a particular sense 
organ with its connected chain of neurones, but as arising 
from the way in which the nervous system as a whole is 
affected by any momentary stimulation. The alleged fact 
that we do not localize them as we do sensations is urged 
in support of this view.^ 

^ Of course if they prove finally to be sensations, they must depend 
upon special sensory nerves which must be capable through some 
physiological device of being reflexly excited from activities in the 
cerebrum, or in other parts of the central system. The possibility 
that the thalami are the central organs responsible for them would 
not be irreconcilable with this conception. See page 45. 



192 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Explanatory Theories of Feeling. — In connection with 
the physiological conception, two general types of hypoth- 
esis have been advanced. The first maintains that all 
experiences which are organically beneficial tend to elicit 
pleasure, whereas those which are physiologically harmful 
tend to occasion pain. The second is substantially a modi- 
fication of the first, and urges that pleasurable experi- 
ences are such as involve activities of the nervous system 
well within the limits of its physical powers, whereas un- 
pleasant experiences involve excessive drain at one point 
or another upon the resources of the system. 

Another widely held view connects pleasure with mental 
activities which progress smoothly toward an end, and dis- 
pleasure with such as are impeded or obstructed in their 
course. Obviously this conception is most immediately 
applicable to cases in which the mind is engaged in 
processes of problem-solving of a rather definite kind. In 
such instances, we become readily aware of differences in 
the ease and directness with which our thought attains its 
goal. For example, a student trying to study finds the 
interruption of a neighboring piano extremely disagreeable, 
even though the music itself be intrinsically pleasant. On 
the other hand, the very act of studying, provided the 
thought processes involved go forward smoothly and effec- 
tively, is likely to be found agreeably stimulating. In such 
a situation the theory mentioned would find an explanation 
for the appearance of agreeableness or disagreeableness in 
the absence or presence of material interruption to the 
thinking. 

This type of theory finds it more difficult to give a satis- 
factory reason for the appearance of some forms of sensory 
pleasantness and unpleasantness. If one strikes a discord 



FEELING 193 

on the piano, the effect may be markedly disagreeable, and 
when one suddenly shifts to a group of harmonious tones, 
the result is forthwith pleasing. In both cases one's pur- 
pose may have been to detect the qualities of the tones, 
and in this sense both processes go forward more or less 
successfully ; nevertheless the one is disagreeable, the other 
agreeable. Similarly there are degrees of pressure, degrees 
of illumination, degrees of noise, which are always dis- 
agreeable. Clearly such cases occasion embarrassment to 
theories couched in the form of the one we are now dis- 
cussing. Facts of this variety evidently lend themselves 
much more readily to description either in terms of the 
biological utility (negative or positive) of the stimulus, or 
in terms of the capacity of the sense organ and the nervous 
system to respond. Nevertheless, while one may refuse to 
accept a formulation of the kind under consideration as 
affording in any sense a complete theory of the conditions 
of feeling, one must frankly recognize that a very large part 
of the more important of our human experiences are cor- 
rectly characterized by it. 

One of the early formulations essentially similar to the 
one we are now -examining connected pain and unpleasant- 
ness with a tendency to change whatever conditions 
obtained, and pleasure with a tendency to continue such 
conditions. This notion falls in very readily with the 
general biological hypothesis of agreeableness and dis- 
agreeableness as protective indices, the one indicat- 
ing a need of instant fresh adjustment, the other 
endorsing whatever process is at the moment going 
forward. 

A variant of this view identifies pleasure with expansive, 
appropriative movements, pain and displeasure with con- 



194 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tractive movements and movements of retreat. The formu- 
lation is roughly correct in its application to simple sen- 
sory pleasantness and unpleasantness, but cannot be 
pressed very far without breaking down.^ 

It must be frankly admitted that all these conceptions 
are in a measure speculative and that while they correspond 
to certain broad features of common experience, they are 
none of them free from difficulties, none of them affords 
wholly conclusive explanations of observed phenomena. It 
is hardly to be supposed that any species of animals could 
survive, which sought, rather than shunned, painful expe- 
riences, because in general such experiences are simply the 
conscious side of physiologically disastrous conditions. Any 
creature which gratuitously sought out the circumstances 
productive of headache, toothache, and earache could 
scarcely be expected to thrive. Clearly, too, a creature 
which was wholly oblivious to pleasurable experiences 
could hardly expect to secure the best conditions for its 
physical well-being, and in competition with other indi- 
viduals and species would almost certainly be out-distanced. 
Whether pleasure and pain have, therefore, been prime 
factors in the development of animal behavior, it is at all 
events clear that they can hardly have failed to play an 
important part. On their lower levels, they certainly rep- 
resent modes of guiding the organism in advance of the 

^ Wundt alleges that there are certain definite and constant 
changes in the respiration and circulation corresponding to his six 
simple feelings. Some other psychologists have reported such 
changes for pleasantness and unpleasantness. The present author 
regards the evidence upon which these views rest as open to grave 
doubt. Many competent experimenters have been unable to demon- 
strate any constancy in the connection of the affective mental states 
with the alleged physiological reactions. 



FEELING 195 

lessons of experience and in advance of the development of 
critical intelligence. 

Complex Feelings. — A distinction may now be drawn 
which logically should have been mentioned earlier, but 
which seemed likely to be somewhat more readily under- 
stood if postponed to this point in the chapter. This has 
to do with the difference between the simple elements of 
feeling, sometimes designated in the modern literature 
* affection,' and the complex feelings which involve not only 
these elements but sensations and ideas beside. The simple 
feeling, or the ' affection, ' is clearly gotten only by abstrac- 
tion. We never experience pure agreeableness devoid of 
other conscious accompaniments. What we experience is 
always an agreeable idea, or an agreeable emotion, an agree- 
able memory, or an agreeable perception. It is perfectly 
possible for us to isolate the agreeableness in our retrospec- 
tive analysis of any particular experience. Indeed, scien- 
tifically it is quite essential that we should do this, for an 
idea, emotion, memory, or perception may obviously be 
experienced either with an opposite feeling, or to all intents 
and purposes with no feeling at all. Thus it has come about 
that psychologists who use the word feeling as a technical 
term are disposed to apply it to the entire concrete expe- 
rience in which agreeableness or disagreeableness is a con- 
spicuous element, but in which other mental factors are also 
present. The terms simple feeling, affection, or feeling- 
tone, are then used to designate the special part of the 
process which is represented in its pleasantness, unpleasant- 
ness, and the like. (See Fig. 50.) 

Strictly speaking one can hardly classify feelings except 
into such rudimentary groups as are already represented in 
our own acceptance of agreeableness and disagreeableness 



196 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

as primordial distinctions. Despite this assertion, a good 
many classifications have, as a matter of fact, been pro- 
posed and adopted. One of the older of these distinguishes 
higher from lower feelings. In the application of this dis- 
tinction, it appears that the lower feelings, so-called, are 
chiefly those connected with the immediate use of the senses 
most closely related to the nutritional processes (e.g., agree- 
able and disagreeable tastes and odors) and to those con- 
nected with the physical appetites and passions. The 





Fig. 50. — To illustrate the relation of simple feeling to total feeling 
states. SF, may represent a simple feeling, or affection, like 
pleasantness, which may be combined with 8e, sensory, or /, 
imaginal, or ideational, elements to constitute a total complex 
state of feeling. 

higher feelings are on this showing such as have to do with 
moral, intellectual, and aesthetic experiences. 

For some purposes a distinction of this kind undoubtedly 
has justification and value, but it may well be questioned 
whether it is not psychologically somewhat misleading. The 
pleasures and pains of taste and smell, for example, and 
those which are connected with the relief of hunger and 
thirst, may be thought of as lower than the pleasure and 
pains of moral experience, because it may seem that the 
latter have a more direct importance for society and the 
general character of human relations. But if, as we believe 
to be the case, the pleasure in the one instance is qualita- 
tively of the same kind with the pleasure in the other, and 



FEELING 197 

especially if we find ourselves obliged to admit a peculiarly 
rare and fine type of pleasure elicited by the fragrance of 
spring fiowers, or by the play of beautiful colors upon the 
retina, we may begin to call in question not only the psy- 
chological value, but also the intrinsic truth of a distinction 
which sets over against one another facts that are, in their 
inner essence, of essentially the same order. We do not 
mean to assert for a moment that there are not in such 
cases abundant differences in the sensory and ideational 
settings of these simple feelings. We do mean, however, to 
urge strongly that intensity and duration apart, the agree- 
ableness and the disagreeableness of one group of experi- 
ences is quite of a piece with that of the other. 

Another classification ostensibly different from that just 
described, but in point of fact working out to a result in 
many particulars similar, recognizes a distinction between 
sensuous and ideational or intellectual feelings. The basis 
of this distinction is too obvious to require discussion, and 
like the one just examined, it clearly involves a division 
not based upon the feeling-tone or the 'affection' as such, 
but simply upon its cognitive accompaniment in the form 
of sensation or idea. 

Again, one frequently encounters reference to personal 
feelings, to social feelings, to ethical and aesthetic feelings. 
All these divisions are perfectly legitimate, and all refer 
to groups of experiences which the exigencies of practical 
life, or of one and another of the philosophical sciences, 
have required that we should recognize. But to each and 
all, in so far as they are offered as psychological classifica- 
tions, the same comment is appropriate. They are classi- 
fications either of the conditions under which certain sorts 
of complex feelings arise, or they are classifications of the 



198 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

mental concomitants of our feeling-tones, rather than classi- 
fications of the feeling elements themselves. This entire 
problem presented by classification exhibits one of the 
essential characteristics of pure feeling, which may now be 
profitably mentioned. 

Feeling, Sensation, and Attention. — It is exactly the 
vagueness and the undifferentiated character of feeling 
which sets it off from sensation and idea. So much so is 
this the case that it is commonly agreed by psychologists 
that we cannot in any proper sense attend to a feeling-tone. 
Certain it is that, if in the midst of an agreeable experience 
one attempts to fix attention upon the pleasantness as such, 
one forthwith finds that the whole experience has been 
transformed and the agreeableness has evaporated in the 
process. In order that we should be able to attend to any 
item of our experience, it is apparently essential that it 
should be possible to discriminate differences within it. 
This is exactly what we cannot do in the case of these ele- 
ments of feeling-tone. They are apparently homogeneous, 
and while they connect themselves in the most varied 
fashion with all other psychological materials, they never 
themselves become focal. They are always, as it were, in 
the margin of consciousness. There we may observe them 
by a sort of mental indirect vision, and we are, in the 
moment of experience, keenly aware of their presence, but 
to make them the objects of attention is apparently to 
destroy them forthwith. They seem always to function as 
adjectives or adverbs, which demand a substantive or a 
verb of some kind to which they may attach. 

This hostility of feeling-tone to attention has led some 
authorities to the interesting suggestion that attention and 
feeling-tone are really the two opposite sides of one and the 



FEELING 199 

same process. This is perhaps another way of stating a 
much older doctrine, i.e., that sensations and ideas give ns 
the objective elements of our experience which we can, if 
we will, share with others. By looking at the same object, 
we may both get what is practically the same sense per- 
ception, and we get this by a process of attending. Feeling, 
on the other hand, represents our purely individualistic 
experience, the way in which we subjectively react. This 
part of our experience we can in no immediate sense share 
with others. In any event, it is the purely unique indi- 
vidual part of the experience, which makes it mine rather 
than yours. 

Feeling and Personal Attitude. — Whatever the final 
validity of such distinctions as those mentioned in the 
previous paragraph, it is unquestionably true in a broad, 
general way that feeling represents in a very real and 
peculiar sense the personal mental attitude of the indi- 
vidual. In what one feels much more truly than in what 
one thinks about, is revealed one's actual character and 
temperament. This is not equivalent to saying that a man 's 
thought is in any way a matter of indifference in the 
formation of his character. It means simply that deeper 
and more significant than the items in one 's b'ody of knowl- 
edge, and even deeper than the particular content of one's 
thought, is the personal attitude toward all these ideas and 
their meaning. 

Before leaving the specialized discussion of feeling, we 
may properly devote a few moments to a consideration of 
certain of its relations to the control of conduct. 

Feeling and Conduct. — We indicated at the outset of 
the chapter that one important view is committed to the 
doctrine that feeling represents the primitive guide by 



200 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

means of which conduct is steered away from harmful and 
toward beneficial types of reaction. So long as this doc- 
trine is confined to the behavior of the simpler organisms 
whose environment is relatively simple, and whose activities 
are relatively stereotyped, it is likely to seem plausible 
enough. Certain it is that the observation of animals low 
in the scale of intelligence distinctly suggests reactions of 
a reasonably immediate kind in terms of the agreeableness 
or disagreeableness of the stimulus and the ensuing re- 
sponse. Fishes, for example, seem often to wander about 
somewhat aimlessly, rejecting whatever food is offensive 
and unhesitatingly accepting that which is appetizing, and 
in the meantime evincing little or no evidence of behavior 
controlled by ideas or any other kind of process involving 
foresight. If agreeable but poisonous food be offered, it is 
immediately accepted. Behavior on this level, then, sug- 
gests rather strongly that whether or not beneficial reac- 
tions are made because they are agreeable, there is at least 
a general parallelism between those types of behavior 
which are apparently satisfying and those which are bio- 
logically useful, with a corresponding parallelism between 
the disagreeable and the injurious. 

If one adopts the implications of this general point of 
view and applies them forthwith to the higher ranges of 
human conduct, one instantly comes upon a doctrine sub- 
stantially that of the ethical hedonist. Taken in its crudest 
form, this view maintains that our conduct is always con- 
trolled, directly or indirectly, by a regard for pleasure and 
pain such that we tend always to avoid the latter and seek 
the former. Of course, in facing the actual complexities of 
human behavior, it has to be recognized that we often 
endure a present pain for the sake of a future pleasure, but 



FEELING 201 

only under the conviction that the expected pleasure will 
outweigh, either in intensity or permanency, the momen- 
tary pain. 

It is possible so to formulate this position as to make its 
successful contradiction decidedly difficult. But human 
nature is generally very unwilling to accept such a descrip- 
tion as accurate to the facts. Whether this unwillingness 
merely reflects a universal moral vanity, or whether it is 
really based upon a keener insight into the actual facts, 
it remains true that this view has never succeeded in secur- 
ing any large following. Ethicists and psychologists alike 
have criticized it on the ground that if one is to describe 
the situation in terms of the actual motives that are con- 
sciously present to human beings, an explicit control by 
considerations of pleasure and pain is relatively rare. Cer- 
tainly no tired mother, sitting up through the long hours 
of the night with a sick child, can for a moment be sup- 
posed to have her conduct controlled by any thought of 
the pleasure which she is getting from the act. Nor would 
it be fair to her actual mental processes to say that she is 
controlled by the pleasure which she hopes to experience 
as a result of her care when the child recovers. Such acts 
may be called instinctive, and in part no doubt they are 
such, but they are none the less voluntary, and so far as 
concerns their conscious motive, pleasure and pain as such 
are hardly ever in the horizon, except perhaps to be impa- 
tiently banished. 

Between the two extremes of doctrine, the one tending 
to urge that pleasure and pain, if not the sole motives in 
voluntary behavior, are at least the dominant ones, the 
other regarding them as of no consequence, is perhaps to 
be found the real truth. It would surely be idle to main- 



202 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tain that pleasure and pain play no part in the early stages 
of our acquaintance with the physical world in which we 
live. That the burned child dreads the fire has become a 
text for hundreds of sermons designed to exploit the moral 
consequences of sin. On the other hand, the adage which 
teaches that to spare the rod is to spoil the child postulates 
the value of pain as an element in education of the formal 
kind. The entire modern doctrine of interest as essential 
in education and the abundant experiments exhibiting the 
dynamic effects upon children of approval and other pleas- 
urable incentives, imply a widespread conviction that 
pleasurable experiences serve to energize and motivate 
conduct in some fashion or other. 

It is of course absurd to suppose that agreeableness or 
disagreeableness merely as such are ever the direct objects 
of reflective choice, when we are deliberating about our 
lines of conduct. For one thing, it is generally agreed by 
psychologists that we have no power thus to summon from 
memory or imagination these pure disembodied affective 
elements. But on the other hand, it would be equally 
untrue to the facts to say that the expected agreeableness 
or disagreeableness of a line of conduct has no weight what- 
ever in determining a decision. We may not formulate the 
decision to ourselves in terms that stress the consequences 
in feeling. Indeed, we may be more or less oblivious at the 
time to such consequences. But so closely knit is the fabric 
of our entire thought process that we could not without 
very special effort divorce from our thinking all influence 
of feeling. 

Feeling and Voluntary Action. — It has been a common 
doctrine and is one for which so eminent a psychologist as 
Wundt stands sponsor, that voluntary actions always grow 



FEELING 203 

out of feelings, or, expressed otherwise, that no volitional 
act ever occurs except in response to feeling. The par- 
ticular formulation which Wundt offers connects acts of 
will with emotion, out of which he teaches that they always 
spring. The more familiar fo:pm of the doctrine implies 
that choice is determined by motives which in the last 
analysis go back to our feelings. Either of two possible 
lines of conduct may be perfectly rational and entirely 
defensible, but for the one we feel a strong predilection and 
toward the other a powerful aversion. Our choice rests, in 
such a case, not upon the sheer rationality of the act, but 
upon our feeling regarding the alternatives. While there 
may be decisions which are entirely cold-blooded and intel- 
lectualistic, and while many of our acts are essentially 
habitual and carried out without any particular reflection, 
there can be no doubt that in great ranges of our conduct 
such a description is correct, in that the psychologically 
moving factor which determines us to choose one rather 
than another course of action is to be stated in terms of 
our subjective prejudices and feelings, rather than in 
terms of pure reason. 



CHAPTER XII 
EMOTION 

Feeling and Emotion. — ^Most familiar of all the forms 
of feelings are the emotions. Although this term 'emotion' 
is naturally somewhat loosely used in ordinary parlance, 
it applies in general to states of mind marked by some 
degree of excitement and commonly by the noticeable pres- 
ence of pleasantness or unpleasantness. Despite the fact 
that these states of excitement tend to shade off into condi- 
tions of a relatively neutral kind, so that there is no sharp 
line to be drawn between emotional and non-emotional 
states, it is nevertheless profitable to devote some consid- 
eration to the more overt emotions which possess certain 
definite peculiarities tending to set them off with reasonable 
distinctness from other mental conditions. Anger, fear, 
hate, love, grief, embarrassment, may serve to suggest the 
more vivid and constant forms of emotion to which we 
shall now direct our attention. This group Professor 
James used to designate as the coarser emotions. 

Emotion and Instinct. — The outstanding mark which 
characterizes these grosser emotions is their intimate con- 
nection with reflex and instinctive modes of behavior. 
Some writers have gone so far as to say that emotion is 
simply the psychological side of an instinct, it is what we 
feel when we perform certain kinds of instinctive acts. 
William James and the Danish psychologist Lange have 
given the most extreme formulations to this view. They 

204 



EMOTION 205 

differ, to be sure, in some essential details, but the main 
contention which each makes is that in an emotional experi- 
ence the characteristic features are contributed by changes 
in our consciousness brought about through certain move- 
ments which are made reflexly or instinctively. To bring 
the doctrine out in the most dramatic way, James puts the 
case by saying that *'we feel sorry because we cry, angry 
because we strike, afraid because we tremble." 

The James-Lange Theory of Emotion. — The common 
view of emotional expression has generally held that the 
clenching of the fist and the distortion of the face in anger 
are the results of the previously existing emotion. The 
theory to which we are now referring admits, of course, that 
these muscular movements are in a perfectly real sense 
expressions of the emotions, but it maintains that if these 
and all the other motor and glandular expressions are 
eliminated everything which is most characteristic of the 
specific feeling of anger at once disappears. The actual 
performance of the experiment which this suggests is 
obviously difficult, because in emotions of the violent kind, 
like rage and anger, many of the most important muscular 
movements, such as those of the heart and diaphragm, are 
not under voluntary control. Defenders of this doctrine 
maintain that one may have an entirely lucid apprehension 
of a situation as one justifying anger, but that the emotion 
is only felt when some or all of the instinctive muscular 
movements are made. These comprise among others — in 
the case of anger — violent tension of most of the voluntary 
muscles, particularly those of the hands, arms, and chest, 
changes in the tonicity of the blood vessels, by virtue of 
which the face often becomes scarlet, changes in the power 
and rate of the heart-beat, and profound alterations in the 



206 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

breathing. Many other consequences affecting both the 
muscular and glandular system might be mentioned, but 
these illustrations will suffice. 

Each of these movements sets up sensory changes, many 
of them accompanied by changes in the feeling-tone, and 
the sum total of these disturbances constitutes the pecul- 
iarly emotional part of the experience. If one looks at a 
bear behind the bars of its cage in the zoological garden, 
the experience may be wholly lacking in any particular 
emotional color. But the same bear, inspected at the same 
distance without the intervening bars, elicits a great group 
of these instinctive reactions, which, fusing with the per- 
ception of the animal, constitute the emotion of fear. 

The particular group of motor reactions which are thus 
called out by emotional objects are native and inherited, 
not acquired. No one has to be taught how to behave when 
afraid, when angry, when embarrassed, or when in the 
power of any of these commoner emotions. Every child 
shows himself from the beginning a passed master in the 
expressions of anger, for example. These performances 
are, therefore, fairly to be regarded as instinctive, and it 
is the modification of our consciousness brought about by 
these untaught and unlearned motor activities, which in the 
view of the James-Lange doctrine constitutes the essential 
mark of emotion. The reader will readily infer, in the 
light of our previous analysis of memory, that individual 
experience will tend to emphasize many of these native 
reactions. The original expression of fear or of anger is, 
in the nature of the case, an entirely unique experience; 
but after one has been subjected to the emotion a number 
of times, one naturally learns what to expect, and the effect 
of one's memories of previous similar situations may enter 



EMOTION 207 

to give tone to a situation which does not itself call out 
in any complete way the full catalogue of natural re- 
sponses.^ 

No one doubts that these grosser emotions possess char- 
acteristic motor accompaniments commonly called their 
expressions. The real point under debate is, therefore, 
whether the emotional feeling is entirely prior to and inde- 
pendent of changes in the field of consciousness occasioned 
by the movements, or whether these changes so elicited 
constitute, as James and Lange maintain, the essence of 
emotion as distinguished from non-emotional states. The 
racially hereditary or instinctive nature of the responses is 
not in question. 

Stimuli to Emotions. — The original emotional stimulus 
is, of course, sensory, e.g., something we see, or touch. But 
it soon comes about, as a result of the development of 
memory and the ideational processes, that thoughts call out 
emotional reactions as vividly and as readily as do sense 
perceptions. The thought of an insulting remark may elicit 
quite as violent a reaction of anger or shame as did the 
original experience. Moreover, an emotional reaction may 

* There has been some disposition to attack the validity of this 
theory on the ground of certain physiological experiments, part of 
which tend to show an intimate inter-relation between emotion of 
the fear-anger type and certain glandular activities, particularly 
those of the adrenals. The other line of criticism is based upon 
experiments on dogs, where the brain was prevented by operation 
from receiving incoming impulses from nearly all the viscera and 
from the surfaces of the body lower than the head region. In this 
case the behavior of the animals seemed to suggest relatively little 
change in the emotions named. This is not the place to enter upon 
any attempt to consider these contributions in detail. It is not the 
view of the writer that the criticisms are valid as against the main 
points of the theory under discussion. See an article by the author 
in the Psychological Review, Vol. XXIII, 1916, p. 251. 



208 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

readily be transposed from one sensory stimulus to another, 
as when a child learns to associate the sight of his bottle 
with the satisfaction of his hunger and the taste of the 
milk. Just how far we inherit a disposition to react in the 
emotional way to specific kinds of stimuli is not altogether 
clear, ^ But it is clear that however various the stimulations 
which produce emotions, the motor and glandular reactions 
are relatively fixed. It is sometimes alleged, for example, 
that babies are naturally afraid of darkness and of fur. 
Neither of these reactions seems to be at all universal, but 
there is some evidence to indicate that one or both are 
represented in the case of certain children. Certain it is 
that when a stimulus is encountered that calls forth fear, 
the child's response is of the instinctive and fairly stereo- 
typed form. 

Ideational Element in Emotion. — In emphasizing the 
instinctive and the motor aspects of emotion, it must not 
be understood that we intend in any way to overlook the 
ideational parts of the process. These are of the utmost 
moment, and they become increasingly so as mental life 
evolves. Mental disease apart, one does not have undi- 
rected fear in general, impersonal anger or embarrassment 
in general. One is afraid of a particular object or situa- 
tion, one is angry at a special individual or group, one is 
embarrassed by a particular situation. In all these in- 
stances^ one's intellectual apprehension of the circum- 
stances, together with the various thoughts suggested in 

^ Watson in an unpublished paper has tentatively reported three 
primitive emotional reactions and their stimuli as follows: (1) 
anger — stimulus — any constriction of free movement; (2) fear — 
stimulus — removal of bodily suppo-rt, possibly loud sounds; (3) af- 
fectionate feeling — stimulus — gentle stroking or tickling. 



EMOTION 209 

each instance, enter to determine the sum total of the emo- 
tional state. Even in the simplest instances this intellectual 
appreciation is momentous. To revert to an earlier illus- 
tration: the bear, which is an object of amused interest in 
the one case, an object of horrified fear in the other, may 
be, as a sheer matter of visual sensation, one and the same. 
Only when he is apprehended as a potential source of 
great bodily suffering does he become an emotional stimulus 
to fear. 

The intellectual element in emotion tends to become more 
conspicuous as we pass from the coarser to the finer forms 
of emotional experience. In the range of aesthetic appre- 
ciation, for example, there is likely to be distinctly less 
evidence of a purely bodily resonance, with relatively more 
of the subtle forms of intellectual pleasure. At no point, 
however, where we can properly speak of emotion, is this 
cognitive element wholly lacking. Emotion is therefore a 
highly complex condition in which sensations, ideas, and 
affections are intricately combined. 

Emotion a Phenomenon of Interrupted Mental 
Activity. — The intensity of emotional experiences, as con- 
trasted with other experiences, may perhaps be connected 
with the fact of interruption to on-going processes. Pro- 
fessor Dewey has defended the thesis that emotions are 
primarily called out when two instinctive tendencies are in 
competition for expression. Whatever judgment may be 
passed upon this particular view, there can be no doubt 
that all the more violent emotions are incidents of vigorous 
interruption to the ordinary flow of mental life. The 
stimulus which calls forth anger is typically one which 
blocks or thwarts our momentary activity. The same thing 
may be said of fear, and in general the onset of an emotion 



210 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

is marked by the invasion and dislocation of whatever 
processes are at the moment going on. In the joyful emo- 
tions this momentary interruption may be succeeded by a 
torrential flow of delicious excitement. 

Darwin's View of Emotion. — In connection with the 
general view of emotion which we have presented, it may 
be of interest to mention briefly certain theories of Charles 
Darwin about the origin of our emotional responses. The 
reader will, of course, bear in mind the fact that as a rule 
Darwin's views rest on the doctrine that bodily structures, 
as well as the forms of behavior, represent the survivals 
of the fittest in the struggle for existence of millions of 
generations of ancestors. This conception naturally raises 
the question as to the utility of our present equipment of 
instinctive reactions, some of which, like trembling when 
upon a high place, seem peculiarly inept and disadvan- 
tageous. Without going into complete details, one or two 
of the Darwinian views may be mentioned. 

There is first the contention that many of the forms of 
reaction now encountered were useful at a previous period 
of racial history. The stock illustration of this sort of 
thing is the elevation of the upper lip in scorn or in anger, 
a performance which has now no particular utility, but 
which in social conditions of a franker and less restrained 
character obviously may have been highly useful. A second 
doctrine involves the so-called principle of * antithesis. ' 
The savage attitudes of an angry dog obviously have a cer- 
tain utility. Over against these, as the expression of 
affectionate moods, are an exactly opposite group. The 
theory here implies not so much the utility of the second 
group, as its appearance because it represents most nearly 
a complete set of muscular opposites to the contrasting emo- 



EMOTION 211 

tioual state. It cannot be said that the Darwinian explana- 
tions have at all completely solved the riddle of certain of 
our emotional reactions, but they will at least serve to sug- 
gest the lines along which it may perhaps be found finally 
possible to render intelligible some of the responses which 
now perplex us. 

Classification of Emotions. — Many classifications of 
emotion have been suggested, but none has succeeded in 
winning permanent general favor. That which seems on 
the whole most fundamental involves a division into those 
which are historically primary, and those which are 
derived or secondary. Were we in a position to apply this 
principle of classification confidently, it would presumably 
satisfy all essential needs. We are, however, obliged to 
use it subject to appreciable uncertainty regarding the 
dividing line which it attempts to employ. 

It seems safe to regard such emotions as anger (offensive) 
and fear (defensive) as unequivocally primary. Pre- 
sumably there should be also recognized something cor- 
responding to love or affection in a broad, general sense. 
Superposed upon these foundations are such emotions as 
gratitude, sympathy in many of its forms, remorse, and 
pity. Each of these last-named experiences has obvious 
elements of instinct in it, and with the possible exception 
of remorse, each of them finds some representation in ani- 
mal behavior. But as contrasted with the members of the 
first group it is fairly clear that they depend for their 
content upon elements which obviously grow out of experi- 
ence. They are therefore in a reasonable sense to be 
regarded as secondary and to some extent derived. Pre- 
sumably they involve one or another of the elements of the 
primary group. 



212 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Mood, Temperament, Sentiment. — Side by side with 
emotion we must put the facts of sentiment, mood, and 
temperament, for they are all inter-related phenomena.. 

The term emotion is usually applied to a relatively brief 
experience whose beginning and end can be fairly marked 
off. Mood is a term which we apply to a comparatively 
permanent emotional condition. One may thus be cheerful 
throughout a considerable period of time. This means that 
while such a mood endures, one is susceptible chiefly to 
those emotions which are closely related to the mood. 

The term temperament is somewhat loosely used to apply 
to still more enduring emotional dispositions, but with 
some reference also to intellectual habits and motor traits. 
The familiar division of temperaments into sanguine, 
choleric, melancholic, and phlegmatic has no very funda- 
mental psychological basis, but serves roughly to charac- 
terize certain gross differences in individual make-up. 
*'The sanguine and choleric types are alert and easily 
stirred, the latter displaying a more intense, the former a 
feebler; interest. The melancholic and phlegmatic types 
are slow in response, the former evincing a strong and 
vivid interest when once aroused, the latter manifesting 
a persistent but weak interest. ' ' It will naturally be under- 
stood that there are considerable variations in individuals, 
even when they conform roughly to these general lines of 
distinction. Moreover, there are all kinds of individual 
differences in intellectual equipment, affecting memory, 
imagination, attention, etc., which must be recognized in 
any general estimate of temperamental peculiarities. 

While we commonly think of disposition as being depend- 
ent upon the prevalent emotional attitude, so that one is 
likely to be good-natured who temperamentally responds 



EMOTION 213 

to most situations with emotions of the buoyant and more 
or less humorous type, it is equally true that emotions are 
likely to be affected by dominant trains of thought. At 
this point what we call sentiment, i.e., a relatively per- 
manent disposition or attitude, is of prime consequence. 
Persons whose thinking tends to dwell upon abstract and 
theoretical subjects are likely to be lacking in sensitiveness 
to social and personal situations. They may be of an 
entirely kindly character when such matters are brought 
forcefully to their notice, but they are not naturally alert 
to their appeal. On the other hand, persons whose thought 
tends to dwell upon the persistent underlying problems of 
social organization are apt to be emotionally responsive to 
human distress. When we designate particular individuals 
as sentimental, we mean to imply an exaggeration of this 
permanent emotional mood in one direction or another. 
There is an essentially reciprocal relation between senti- 
ments and emotions, for the cultivation of any set of emo- 
tions tends to foster a prevalent sentiment favorable to 
such emotions, whereas conversely and obviously, a senti- 
ment is itself an invi4;ation to the corresponding emotion. 
Emotion and Volition. — Whatever view we entertain 
regarding the relation of feeling to volition — a matter dis- 
cussed in the previous chapter — we must recognize that our 
emotional life sustains a most important relation to our 
conduct and character. A well-balanced, forceful character 
implies strong normal emotions, responding without exag- 
geration to the demand of human relations. The wholly 
unemotional person may meet the requirements of some 
occasional crises with great distinction, but in general he 
is likely to be a cold-blooded, unsympathetic individual, 
oblivious to many of the finer things in life. On the other 



214 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

hand some persons suggest by their behavior an active emo- 
tional volcano and from such we can hardly look for well- 
poised opinions or consistent and efficient conduct. We 
shall discuss aiore fully in a later chapter the relation of 
the will to instinct and emotion. 



CHAPTER XIII 
INSTINCT 

Our analysis of emotion, leading us as it did into the 
region of instinct, carries us back to matters which we 
touched upon at the very beginning of our study. We 
must now look somewhat more closely into this part of our 
human equipment. 

The Nature of Instinct. — Without making any pre- 
tense of precision in definition, it may be said at once 
that instincts, like reflex acts, rest upon the presence in 
the nervous system (both central and autonomic) of 
native pathways for the discharge of impulses into the 
muscles. Some of the instincts are perfect at birth. 
In all young mammals the instinct of sucking is of this 
character. Others appear and come to perfection at 
later stages of the animal's life. But whenever they 
appear, they involve innate, inherited forms of conduct and 
are in no sense learned or acquired like the voluntary forms 
of action. In general, they are to be differentiated from 
reflex acts in part by their complexity, the reflex involving 
generally a simple muscular response to a single stimulus, 
and in part by their being ordinarily conscious, whereas 
many reflexes are unconscious. After all, however, the dif- 
ferences are perhaps not so important as the similarities, 
and certain it is that the one passes over into the other 
through stages which are not separated by any sharp 
boundaries. 

215 



216 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

These instinctive and reflex activities serve to give the 
organism capacity to meet many of the more important 
situations to which it must adjust, and in certain of the 
lower animals they comprise substantially the sum total of 
f its abilities. In the human being they form the foundation 
I upon which is built all that individualistic adjustment rep- 
! resented by his personal experience. Not only does the 
human child begin his life career with a capital made up 
solely of these hereditary achievements; they remain 
throughout his life as dominating factors from which he 
derives the larger part of his more enduring motives. Our 
analysis of emotion will have naturally led the reader to 
anticipate that in discussing instinct we must repeat to some 
extent points which we have considered already. For we 
have insisted that our emotions are knit up in the most 
intimate way with our instincts. 

As we pointed out in the preceding chapter, there are 
many possible classifications of emotions and instincts. 
For example, they have been grouped as social, or personal, 
as egoistic or altruistic, as defensive or aggressive. At 
present the commonest grouping is probably that which 
attempts to bring together instincts which are primary and 
relatively simple as over against those which are secondary, 
derived, and complex. All the divisions must be regarded 
as merely rough attempts to classify phenomena of which 
our knowledge is as yet too imperfect to warrant dogmatic 
assertions. Before entering upon this rough practical 
grouping, it may perhaps clarify the reader's view of the 
situation to point out certain peculiarities of human 
instincts as compared with those of the animals. 

Comparison of Human and Animal Instinct. — ^It is 
commonly supposed that the higher animals possess 



INSTINCT 217 

appreciably more instincts than does man. Professor 
James and others maintain, however, that a contrary state- 
ment is nearer the truth. Undoubtedly animals have more 
highly perfected instincts than any which we find in man. 
Certainly neither the child nor the adult displays any such 
remarkably elaborate instinct as that shown by the young 
spider in the construction of its first intricate web. On the 
other hand, it seems to be the fact that men have more 
rudimentary impulses of an essentially instinctive kind 
than any animal. 

Neither in man nor in the animals, however, are instincts 
so blind nor so invariable in their operation as is sometimes 
supposed. Even reflex acts are some of them susceptible to 
appreciable alteration, and practically all exhibit marked 
variation from one individual to another. In the higher 
animals, many an instinct may be stamped out and disap- 
pear, either because opportunity for its development is lack- 
ing at the appropriate time, or because its first expression 
is followed by painful consequences. The disposition of 
the young chick to follow moving objects is one which 
passes away with some promptness if it be not cultivated. 
Commonly the maternal hen offers such an object and the 
chick's instinct is forthwith developed into a habit which 
may last indefinitely. Any of the less fundamental in- 
stincts may be temporarily, or even permanently, inhibited 
by painful experiences. The chick, again, has a strong 
tendency to peck at small objects. If those supplied be 
given a strongly disagreeable taste or be coated with 
some burning acid substance, the instinct may be gravely 
disarranged. 

The plasticity of human instinct is much more familiar. 
Indeed, because of its variability there is little appreciation 



218 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

of the really instinctive character of many forms of human 
conduct. The reactions to circumstances which cause 
embarrassment are essentially of the instinctive kind, and 
yet they may vary widely in different individuals and in 
the same individual at different times. The common expres- 
sion of marked embarrassment is blushing. Some people, 
however, rarely or never blush, but are rendered dumb by 
embarrassing situations. Others express their distress by 
awkward movements of hands or face. Still others are 
overwhelmed with a rush of words, which in children and 
adolescents often tend to ill-mannered and rude expres- 
sions. One of these reactions may be made today, and 
another one tomorrow. This is simply to say that the 
instinct is of a very general and ill-organized type. As 
compared with the animals, probably all human instincts 
are decidedly more variable, and the reader can no doubt 
summon from his own observations abundant confirmation 
of this statement. Notoriously, some individuals flush 
when angry, others grow pale. Some persons become 
speechless when frightened, others teiid to babble on like 
Tennyson's brook. 

Human Instincts. — ^Let us return now to the attempt to 
make a rough list of the more important human instincts, 
and to suggest a working grouping. Professor James gives 
the following list; vocalization, imitation, emulation or 
rivalry, pugnacity, anger, resentment, sympathy, fear, 
acquisitiveness, eonstructiveness, play, curiosity, sociability 
and shyness, secretiveness, cleanliness, modesty, shame, love, 
jealousy, parental love, and hunting. MacDougall recog- 
nizes instincts to flight, repulsion, curiosity, pugnacity, self- 
abasement, self-assertion, and the parental instinct. From 
the latter he evolves sympathy and indirectly moral indig- 



INSTINCT 219 

nation. He regards as minor instincts those leading to 
gregarious habits, to reproduction, and to construction. 
Watson, in his recent study of behavior, lists locomotion, 
the obtaining of food and shelter, rest, play, sleep, as the 
foundation of daily life. Instincts of sex, of defense and 
attack, migration, mimicry, and vocalization belong to less 
sharply marked groups. 

. Ribot distinguishes certain primitive tendencies, of 
which the more purely physiological have to do with the 
maintenance of the body. The others, of a more definitely 
psychological character, are related to distinctly social and 
racial situations. He speaks thus of the instinct of con- 
servation under its defensive form as involving fear and 
all its modifications. Under its aggressive form this con- 
servative instinct appears as anger, with its various deriva- 
tives. These are properly the primary group, upon which 
are built the more complex tendencies, finding their most 
definite expression in sympathy and the so-called tender 
emotions in general, such as pity, and the various forms of 
non-sexual personal affection. On the foundation repre- 
sented by these three fundamental groups he would base 
all the other instinctive and emotional traits. Some, like 
the sex instincts, appear relatively late and are then com- 
plicated not only with the instincts which appear earlier, 
but also with the general fruits of experience. Still 
another grouping which Pillsbury has recently accepted 
recognizes (a) ''those instincts which preserve the life and 
provide for the welfare of the individual; (b) those which 
provide for the continuance of the race and for the family, 
and (c) those which make for the welfare of the tribe or 
of the social unit." Evidently some of the instincts will 
overlap two or even three of the groups. 



220 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

As has been suggested, the value of any of these proposed 
classifications is really dependent upon the particular inter- 
€st or purpose which it is designed to meet. If one wishes 
to uncover the distinctly genetic phases of instinct, then a 
classification like that of Ribot or MacDougall, if it can 
be satisfactorily carried out, would be best. If one desires 
to throw into the foreground those considerations which 
pertain most distinctly to the evolution of society and its 
relation to the individual, then such a grouping as was 
mentioned last is likely to be most convenient. There is 
an added advantage in this type of classification in that 
it lends itself rather readily to use in connection with the 
modern evolutionary conceptions of mind. 

Man has undoubtedly developed, like other living 
creatures, out of simpler antecedent forms. In the process 
of evolution his mental as well as his physical organization 
has been developed in response to influences which are 
partly physiological and partly social. Presumably in the 
life of the race, as in the life of the individual, the earliest 
exigencies are those which relate to food, rest, and protec- 
tion from the assaults of climate and animal enemies. The 
instinctive equipment to meet these demands is represented 
in hunger, thirst, and the anger-fear reactions. Superposed 
upon the successful adjustment to demands of this char- 
acter is the group of situations calling for effective social 
relations and leading speedily into the group centering first 
in the family and then in the tribe or social unit, whatever 
that may be. At one point or another in this series will 
be found the justification for each of the instincts which 
we have noted, the sum total representing a rude balance 
between those impulses which tend to foster on the one hand 
the purely personal interests of the individual, and on the 



INSTINCT 221 

other those of the social group to which he belongs. As 
we shall see in a later chapter, the great function of volun- 
tary action is to introduce a rational organization of these 
raw instinctive tendencies; but, even apart from rational 
control, on evolutionary grounds there must obviously 
always be an approximate balance between those instincts 
which tend to exploit the individual at the cost of society 
and those whose tendency is in the opposite direction. The 
social group is helpless without the individual, and the 
individual cannot really come to his own without the 
group. 

Theories of the Origin of Instinct. — It will throw some 
light upon the general problem of instinct to survey for a 
moment certain of the more important theories regarding 
its origin. Of these we may mention three. At the present 
moment the one which we shall first describe probably 
enjoys the largest following. 

(1) The reflex theory, which is perhaps most often in 
English connected with the name of Herbert Spencer, con- 
ceives instinct as built up out of the accidental conjunction 
of reflex acts in forms which are sufficiently useful so that 
the animals possessing them are at an advantage in the 
struggle for existence, and thus tend to survive when their 
less fortunate companions disappear. On the basis of this 
view, intelligence plays no necessary part in the original 
establishment of the instinct ; indeed, the doctrine provides 
for the possibility that many of the lower animal forms 
may be very meagerly supplied with mental powers. 

This view has to attribute the establishment of instincts 
essentially to accident, and it necessarily carries with it 
the further assumption that many of these accidents turn 
out unsuccessfully, so that neither they nor the animals 



222 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

thus endowed survive. Inasmuch as accidental varia- 
tions are well known to occur both in the structure and in 
the behavior of animal forms, this difficulty is perhaps not 
very grave. A more serious one concerns the fact that 
some instincts are extremely elaborate and consist of a 
series of relatively complicated acts, any one of which, 
taken alone, may be relatively useless. 

If the preservative value of instincts is adopted to explain 
their existence, one is then apparently obliged to assume 
that the entire series of steps in a complex instinct sprang 
into existence at once (for any single step taken alone may 
be useless), and this seems highly improbable. In any 
event it strains one's credulity. The instincts in accord- 
ance with which wasps and bees construct their nests and 
lay up food supplies may reasonably be cited as instances 
of the type of difficulty mentioned. 

(2) The next theory is that of lapsed intelligence. 
Among psychologists Wundt is probably the most con- 
spicuous adherent of this view. It assumes that instincts 
arise out of acts originally intelligent and voluntary in 
character, that certain of these acts, being extremely useful 
and being oft repeated, get themselves established as firmly 
ingrained habits. These habits are then transmitted to 
offspring and so appear in the younger generations as 
innate. 

Evidently this theory involves two fundamental assump- 
tions without which it can hardly be made plausible at all. 
The one is that intelligence of the kind expressed in volun- 
tary action is an attribute of the lowest animal forms. The 
other is that acquired habits may gradually become so 
well established that they are transmitted by heredity. 
Both these assumptions are vigorously challenged by scien- 



INSTINCT 223 

tists of repute. The second in particular has been sub- 
jected to very severe arraignment by the great group 
of biologists who doubt or disbelieve that any character- 
istics acquired by an individual in his own lifetime are 
ever passed on by heredity to his offspring. The matter is 
still under active discussion and experiment at the hands 
of zoologists, and we shall have to await their final verdict. 
Meantime, the theory of lapsed intelligence probably 
enrolls a much smaller number of defenders than the reflex 
theory. It has one great advantage over the latter theory 
in that it is in a position to explain the slow building up 
of complex instincts, because it can make use of the selec- 
tive influence of intelligence in picking out groups of useful 
coordinations. 

(3) The theory of organic selection is represented among 
psychologists by Professor J. M. Baldwin. It maintains 
that consciousness is probably present and significant even 
in the very low organisms, and it may be assumed to be 
of value in just the same way that it is in human beings, 
i.e., by aiding in the adjustments which the organism makes 
in its attempt to accommodate its life to the exigencies of 
its surroundings. By the assistance of these rudimentary 
forms of intelligence, organisms may, in the view of this 
theory, be kept alive during the period when instincts are 
being slowly and more or less accidentally built up. Indeed, 
intelligence may conceivably exercise some influence in the 
selection or elimination of certain phases of the plastic 
developing instincts. The theory makes no demand, how- 
ever, for assent to the doctrine of the transfer of acquired 
characteristics. It rather aligns itself in this matter with 
the reflex theory, urging that only spontaneous variations 
are ever preserved and transmitted by heredity. But it 



224 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

obviously differs from the reflex theory in recognizing the 
possible presence of intelligence even in low forms of 
animal life, and in assigning such intelligence an active and 
indispensable part in keeping the species alive during the 
period when useful instincts are getting themselves estab- 
lished. 

According to the last two of these theories intelligence 
is developed in parallel with the instincts. On the basis of 
the first theory, we must look for the appearance of intel- 
ligence at a relatively late point in animal evolution. 
Clearly if we turn to the life history of the human indi- 
vidual, we find from the beginning unmistakable evidences 
of reflex and instinctive acts, and although we do not find 
any developed capacities of voluntary control, we do find 
consciousness present, and we encounter at a very early 
stage the outcropping of definitely volitional processes. In 
the normal child the act of nursing will occur almost imme- 
diately after birth; but if the child for any reason dislikes 
the taste of the food supplied it, there may be also overt 
and violent refusal to accept it. There are many evidences, 
as was remarked earlier in the chapter, that instincts may 
be definitely modified and controlled by voluntary action. 
So far as concerns ourselves, then, we can only admit that 
while instincts and reflexes are dominant in the primary 
stages of our life history, intelligent control comes in at 
an early age to modify these inherited forms of behavior. 
That children ever inherit the acquired habits of their 
parents has never been proved, and is by most competent 
observers believed not to be the fact. 

Instinct and Intelligence. — In the general process of 
evolution any particular generation necessarily carries over 
from ancestral conditions some instinctive forms of be- 



INSTINCT 225 

havior which are either partly or entirely useless under 
extant circumstances. It is, indeed, probable that some of 
them are at times positively harmful. Glearly, such in- 
stincts are only likely wholly to disappear when they 
become so pernicious as to threaten the life of the species 
manifesting them. On the other hand, we know that disused 
organs tend to atrophy, and in the measure in which con- 
temporary conditions fail to call out particular modes of 
instinctive behavior, there is always a chance that they may 
gradually disappear. Undoubtedly the broad general func- 
tion of instincts is that already many times indicated, to- 
wit, the adaptation of the organism to the crucial features 
of its environment in advance of its individual experience. 
As soon as knowledge begins to arise about the effects of 
the objects in the environment upon the organism, intelli- 
gence can begin to act and voluntary control may come in 
to supplement or displace the unaided guidance of instinct. 
Many human instincts are still of the utmost value, not 
only because of the direct service which they render in 
advance of experience, but also because they furnish per- 
sistent and powerful motives to lines of conduct which are 
both individually and racially indispensable. The instinc- 
tive love of the mother for the child, the instinctive sym- 
pathy with many forms of suffering, the instinctive interest 
in acquisition, to mention only these traits is to name a 
group of instinctive tendencies whose removal would 
radically alter the whole texture of our social fabric. 



CHAPTER XIV 
ELEMENTS OP VOLUNTARY ACTION 

We are now prepared to attempt what is essentially a 
synthesis of all the preceding analyses and descriptions of 
mental operations. The prime purpose of all sensations, 
acts of memory, imaginings, reasonings, and feelings is to 
enable us intelligently to control our conduct. This power 
of intelligent control is in common parlance generally called 
will. It is not the view of the present writer that the mind 
has any special faculty properly to be designated 'will.' 
Rather is this term to be understood as applicable to the 
entire mind when considered as an active directive force. 
To think is in a very true sense to will. To recall pur- 
posely is to will. To sign one's name intentionally is to 
will. In a way, then, we have already analyzed and 
described many phases of our volitional processes, but it is 
of distinct practical advantage to consider a special group 
of problems that still remain. These concern the means 
whereby we secure and maintain control over our muscular 
movements and thus become able at will to give expression 
to our thoughts, our wishes, and our decisions. There are 
also certain large general aspects of volition and character 
which merit more intimate analysis ^nd description than 
they have hitherto received. 

Stages of Motor Control. — Psychology is under no 
obligation to explain the existence of the muscular move- 
ments involved in voluntary action. From the beginning 

226 



ELEMENTS OF VOLUNTARY ACTION 227 

of a baby 's life these movements are occurring in a random, 
spontaneous or impulsive way. But the psychologist may 
fairly be held responsible for some description of the 
manner in which these uncontrolled movements become 
organized, as ultimately they do, into effective coordina- 
tions, like writing and sewing. In Chapter IV, to which 
the reader may well refer, we sketched the main outstand- 
ing features of this process of acquiring motor control, 
and that account we need not repeat, although we must 
enlarge upon certain phases of it. 

An observer watching the progress of a baby's mastery 
of his muscles (as in learning to grasp an object which he 
sees), might well remark the following stages: 

(1) A first period in which undirected impulsive move- 
ments of all the muscles occur in response to sensory 
stimuli, some of these being outside the body, some pre- 
sumably inside.^ 

(2) An intermediate period in which a few controlled 
movements of the larger muscles slowly emerge. The con- 
trol is very imperfect and many useless movements are 
always included. 

(3) A final period in which skill in making the essential 
movements is achieved and the superfluous movements fall 
away. 

(4) New coordinations may be taken on at any time, so 
that the three stages inevitably overlap, but any given act 



^ Some of the early movements are of course instinctive and rep- 
resent pre-formed pathways through the nervous system. The 
movements here referred to are mainly of the non-instinctive type. 
The pathways arej»opened up by the pressure of the stimuli coming 
in over the sense organs and are not, like the reflex paths, fixed 
and substantially uniform. 



228 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

passes through substantially these phases on its way to 
complete control. 

Mental Factors Involved in Gaining Control. — Such 
an account as this evidently omits all reference to the 
mental processes which accompany such a course of develop- 
ment. Unfortunately psychologists are far from unani- 
mous as to the exact nature of these psychic events. All 
are agreed that consciousness is energetically employed 
during the process of acquiring control, and that it tends 
to subside and busy itself elsewhere, as the coordination is 
gradually mastered. All are also agreed that sensations 
and ideas are employed in gaining motor skill, but the ques- 
tion as to just how they are used is a source of radical 
disagreement. Under IJiese circumstances it will perhaps 
be most helpful to the reader if we sketch brielfly one widely 
held view and indicate as we proceed some of the objections 
to it. 

Let it be understood at the outset that the main points 
we have to deal with are (1) the nature of the mental cue 
by which a particular movement is called forth when 
desired, (2) how this cue originally got its power to serve 
as a motor control, with special regard to any differences 
which characterize (a) the period when a new movement is 
heing learned and (b) the period after it has become rea- 
sonably automatic, and (3) what forms of mental control 
are employed to supervise series of movements such, for 
instance, as are used in piano playing. 

Let it also be understood that we have no obligation to 
explain the fact that sensory and ideational states in gen- 
eral lead regularly to motor consequences. This follows 
from the nature of the sensory-motor circuit, which has 
been constantly emphasized. What we do have to explain 



ELEMENTS OF VOLUNTARY ACTION 229 

is the fact that a particular sensation or idea is followed 
by a particular movement, rather than some other. It may 
also be remarked at once that normally the only reason 
any sensation or idea fails to elicit a movement is that 
there exists some blockage in the neurones or that it comes 
into competition with some stronger idea or sensation and 
is overcome. 

Owing to the impossibility of ascertaining just what goes 
on in the child's mind while he is learning to use his 
muscles, we are obliged to fall back upon a study of the 
behavior of adults when acquiring new motor coordinations. 
Obviously the two conditions present many important dif- 
ferences, but we must make the best of the situation. 

Part Played by Sensations and Ideas of Movement. — 
Every movement of the voluntary muscles, however caused, 
produces kinaesthetic sensations and is apt to produce other 
sensations too. For example, if the arm is raised, we feel 
the movement and are likely also to see it. Now one view 
about the origin of voluntary action maintains that we are 
so organized that by calling into mind the images of the 
kinaesthetic sensations aroused by any spontaneous or 
impulsive movement, we can again elicit the movement 
itself. The development of voluntary control waits, then, 
upon the accidental occurrence of movements which catch 
attention, whereupon, by recalling the memory of the 
kinaesthetic sensations aroused, the movements may be 
repeated. Movements presumably catch attention most 
easily when they produce changes in some object already 
being attended to. A child looking at a red ball is fairly 
sure to notice the movement by which his hand comes in 
contact with it. Thus little by little the various muscular 
coordinations will be mastered. 



230 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

This view maintains further, that as control grows, there 
is a speedy displacement of kinaesthetic images and sensa- 
tions (called 'resident' by James, because they arise in 
the part moved) in favor of images and sensations (called 
'remote') reporting the objective results of the act, rather 
than the mere fact of movement. The auditory word 
images of a verse we wish to write may thus serve as the 
only cue to guide the hand, the kinaesthetic imagery being 
entirely absent. 

Whether this general theory squares with the facts the 
reader must try to determine for himself.^ 

Criticism has been principally directed at two points. It 
is said (a) that as every kinaesthetic sensation is caused 
by, and occurs after, a muscular movement, it is irrational 
and contrary to the general neural principle of habit to 
suppose that the sensation, or its image, can again bring 
about the same movement. If effective at all, it should call 
out some succeeding movement and not that which origi- 
nally caused its appearance. 

It is further asserted (b) that kinaesthetic elements, if 
employed at all, are merely supplementary to other kinds 
of sensations and ideas, and that they probably enjoy but 
rarely, if ever, any such primacy as is imputed to them 
by the theory we have been considering. Any mental cue, 

* Shut the eyes and write the word ' echo ' backward. Then try 
a long word like ' incomprehensibility.' See what sensory and 
imaginal material you use to initiate and control the movements. 
Try similarly some relatively novel movement, something you have 
not done before. Men can easily experiment on knitting or crochet- 
ing, women can try some unfamiliar musical instrument. If pos- 
sible, detect what mental cues you employ to accomplish the neces- 
sary movements. Be sure to make some experiments with the 
eyes closed, to bring out the importance of visual control. 



ELEMENTS OF VOLUNTARY ACTION 231 

it is alleged, may be used to elicit a movement, provided 
only that by some combination of circumstances it has 
become associated with the latter as its antecedent. It is 
generally added by defenders of this view that 4mageless 
thoughts' often serve this function. 

Tentative Formulation of Principles of Muscular 
Control. — Without being dogmatic we may formulate our 
views on certain general aspects of the subject as follows: 
To will an act is to foresee it and actively wish its occur- 
rence. To foresee a movement implies having some repre- 
sentative of it in the mind. We cannot in any literal sense 
anticipate a muscular movement, or have any precise idea 
of it, until we know what it feels like, and this we cannot 
learn until it has occurred in some accidental way. The 
original spontaneous, impulsive movements afford just this 
necessary information, and the memories of the movements 
and their results afford the indispensable mental represen- 
tatives wherewith to think of them and thus initiate the 
process of wishing and willing their recurrence. 

Where interest is centered in the muscular movement for 
its own sake, as in some gymnastic feats, we probably use 
kinaesthetic sensations and ideas as the chief medium of 
control. On the other hand when the interest is in the 
objective result of the act, as in most of the occupations 
of daily life, we doubtless make predominant use of other 
more indirect forms of control. Whether children always 
begin their processes of motor learning with the kinaes- 
thetic control, we cannot say. It can hardly fail to play an 
important part. But in the adult there are abundant 
instances where it apparently figures in only a very minor 
way. Certainly as expertness is gained, in any act, the 
controls become more and more remote. Any idea may lead 



232 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

through an associative nexus to a given movement. One 
may open a window in order to look down on the street, 
or in order to air out the room. Two quite different ideas 
thus lead to the same act. Moreover, one and the same idea 
may obviously lead to very different reactions as when, 
desiring to find a coin, one first explores a pocket and then 
a desk drawer. 

The author thinks the evidence quite clear that in some 
cases the kinaesthetic image of a movement actually serves 
to reinstate the movement,^ and this may be the original 
tendency of all such mental factors. On the other hand it 
is equally clear that in coordinated series of movements, 
like skating, the kinaesthetic sensations serve as the cues 
for movements quite different from those which called them 
forth. Kinaesthetic images may well operate at times in 
the same fashion. But other forms of sensations and ideas 
are just as potent in motor control. 

Reverting to the three points mentioned at the beginning 
of this discussion, we may summarize our position as 
follows : 

(1) Any sensation or idea which has become associated 
with a movement as its antecedent may serve as the mental 
cue for its production. 

(2) The cues first used are the memories of the acci- 
dental spontaneous movements and their results. Probably 
kinaesthetic cues are more largely employed in the early 
stages of motor learning, other forms speedily sharing this 
duty with them and after a time tending wholly to displace 
them. Ideas originally altogether disconnected with move- 

^ For an interesting hypothesis to explain the neural basis of 
this fact, see James' Principles of Psychology, Vol= II, Chapter 
XXVI. 



ELEMENTS OF VOLUNTARY ACTION 233 

ments may thus come ultimately to serve as cues for their 
production. 

(3) A series of movements once initiated may go on with 
relatively little supervision, but in many cases there must 
be constant sensory direction, or the activity will go adrift. 
Writing affords an excellent illustration. The control may 
be, and generally is, carried on in the margin of the field 
of attention, only now and then becoming focal, when some 
difficulty arises which requires new adjustment — e.g., when 
the pen point catches and makes a blot. The sight of the 
v/ord or the pen, the kinaesthetic sensations from the hand, 
or the sound of the pen on the paper, may any or all serve 
as the controls. 

Objective Studies of Motor Learning. — As a result of 
many experimental studies of the process of habit forma- 
tion in adults, an interesting group of facts has been 
brought to light. 

If we arrange to measure, hour by hour or day by day, 
the rate of progress made in the mastery of a new accom- 
plishment, we find, contrary to a common impression, that 
even when our effort is substantially constant and when 
ostensibly the difficulty of the task is also approximately 
uniform, we do not progress at a constant rate. Sometimes 
we go very much more rapidly than at others, and now and 
then there occur considerable periods during which we 
seem either to make no advance or actually to go backward. 
The accompanying figure 51 represents in graphic form 
the progress made by a person learning to send and receive 
telegraphic messages. Similar curves are available for 
many other types of accomplishment. It will be seen at 
once that the curve, instead of representing a straight 
upward-pointing line making an angle of forty -five degrees 



234 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

with the base line, is extremely irregular, sometimes shoot- 
ing up rapidly, then falling back again, and at two or three 
points presenting roughly a level region. Such a region is 
spoken of as a plateau. These are zones during which no 
advance was being made, as measured by objective achieve- 
ment. The learner was performing no more rapidly at 
the end of the period than at the beginning. 

It would be a great mistake to suppose that no growth 




'IttIS or BSACTICI 



Fig. 51. — The lower horizontal line represents the number of weeks 
during which training was in progress. The vertical line the 
number of words which could be sent and received per unit of 
time. (Modified from Bryan and Harter.) 



in skill is going on during these days. Some experimenters 
have, to be sure, called in question the necessity for such 
plateaus. But whether or not, under occasional ideal con- 
ditions they may be minimized, there seems to be no rea- 
sonable question that they reflect a genuine part of all 
familiar learning processes, especially such as definitely 
involve the attainment of motor dexterity. Apparently 
there comes a point at which the -nervous system has 
assimilated as many new pathways as it is for the moment 
capable of receiving, and before profitable advance can be 
made in the using of such paths, there must be an appre- 



ELEMENTS OF VOLUNTARY ACTION 235 

ciable time for the sinking in and crystallizing of the new 
connections. After these have become firmly established, 
a new set may then be bnilt upon these foundations. 

Distribution of Effort in Learning. — An interesting 
corollary of these observations has to do with the distribu- 
tion of effort and time in any process of learning, but 
particularly in such as we are here considering, in which 
motor coordinations are being established. Various opinions 
have been entertained regarding such matters as the length 
and frequency of practice periods most desirable for per- 
sons learning to play a musical instrument. There is a 
deep-seated prejudice among many music teachers that the 
only limitation to the advantageous length of a practice 
period is set by fatigue. The problem, conceived in a large 
way, is still in its infancy, but evidence is rapidly accumu- 
lating which strongly suggests that very much briefer 
periods of practice than have been customary are for many 
purposes advantageous. At the present moment no one 
really knows in any precise manner how many sets of tennis 
may befet be played each day in order to secure a maximal 
proficiency most quickly. The judgment of experts, how- 
ever, is rapidly growing in a direction which would confirm 
much recent psychological experimentation to the effect 
that a dozen men blunder by practicing too long and too 
often for one who blunders in the opposite direction. When 
it comes to a question of increasing mere muscular power, 
a different course may be wise, as will be indicated in a 
later chapter. 

We have already had something to say about this matter 
in connection with memory. In general, it may be laid 
down as reasonably certain that while ''line upon line and 
precept upon precept" is morally wholesome doctrine, it 



236 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

must not be understood as meaning that judged by objec- 
tive achievement each hour of effort expended will show 
an equal amount of tangible outcome. There are sure to 
be flat regions in the learning curve under almost all 
familiar conditions; but these regions are themselves the 
preconditions of subsequent rapid advance. 



CHAPTER XV 
WILL, INSTINCT, AND CHARACTER 

Early in this book it was urged that we find acquired 
voluntary acts coming in to help out the short-comings of 
our hereditary instinctive equipment. The instinctive acts 
appear earlier and thus seem more primitive, and the volun- 
tary acts are apparently built upon them. There is another 
phase of the relationship, however, which deserves 
mention. 

Volition, Attention, and Instinct. — Volition in its de- 
veloped forms involves choice among possible alternatives. 
These choices cannot be made effective until we have control 
of the muscles, but the necessity for making them would 
not arise were there not competition among our impulses 
and instincts. Attention is simultaneously appealed to by 
two or more stimuli, by two or more instincts, and in the 
nature of the case one or other must give way, unless con- 
duct is to be paralyzed. Choice, decision, will, in the' 
fullest sense of the word, seems to arise out of such cir- 
cumstances, and those impulses and ideas which succeed in 
gaining our persistent attention are forthwith translated 
into action. Willing is therefore in the last analysis a psy- 
chological process of attending. When only one competitor 
can hold attention firmly, choice has occurred and the move- 
ments expressive of the decision will take place at the 
proper moment, in accordance with the procedure sketched 
in the previous chapter. Volition thus establishes organi- 

237 



238 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

zation among instincts, as vvell as among our random spon- 
taneous movements. 

If volition serves to organize instinct, instinct no less 
serves to furnish the most imperious motives to volition. 
Indeed, it is not too much to say that all the great per- 
sistent types of human purpose have their roots in instinct, 
and that the evolution of character in man is essentially a 
process of symmetrical development of his instinctive 
nature. Where some one instinct or group of instincts suc- 
ceeds in dominating all the others, the result is a one-sided, 
and it may be a vicious, character. Or, looking at the situa- 
tion from the other side, the absence of a proper develop- 
ment of certain instinctive traits may produce a weak and 
flabby character. At all events, it is desirable that we 
should consider for a few moments certain of these rela- 
tions of instinct to volition. 

Persistent Instinctive Influences. — As was pointed out 
in Chapter XIII, one of the earliest of these instincts to find 
expression is undoubtedly anger. It appears on the slight- 
est provocation whenever appetites or desires are thwarted. 
Civilization has carried on a long and relentless struggle 
to try and keep the expressions of it within reasonable 
bounds, and religion and ethics alike have condemned its 
manifestations except in a qualified way in connection with 
issues involving the welfare of the social group. Never- 
theless, there are probably few human emotions, few 
instincts which are more frequently stimulated and which 
in the gross play a larger part in determining human 
conduct. Many individuals will instantly resent the impli- 
<jation and deny the truth of this assertion. But if one 
remembers that irritation, exasperation, annoyance are all 
names for rudimentary forms of anger, and will then take 



WILL, INSTINCT, AND CHARACTER 239 

the trouble to trace the similar rudiments in many other 
emotions, such as jealousy, envy and moral indignation^ 
the plausibility of the assertion will be recognized. 

Fear, again, is one of the earliest and most persistent of 
emotional and instinctive motives. Physical fear is, thanks 
to the conditions of civilized life, a far less frequent expe- 
rience than it was a few centuries ago.^ But if one takes 
into account all the anxieties that connect themselves with 
ill-health, with precarious social and economic prospects, 
and with the course of personal affections, to mention no 
other phases of the case, it will at once be seen that the 
shadow of fear still hovers over most human lives in a 
very genuine way. 

Turning from these more egotistical instincts to those of 
a more generous and socialized type, we come upon the 
great group of so-called tender feelings, the human affec- 
tions, love and sympathy and pity, each of which plays an 
important part in every normal human life, and in some 
cases an altogether predominant part. So much is this 
the case that in certain highly organized individuals fear, 
at least, may be almost wholly abolished except in that 
vicarious form, in which it survives as anxiety for the 
welfare of others. 

These considerations, brief as they are, may perhaps 
suffice to suggest to the reader the essential truth of the 
statement that instincts play a dominant part in determin- 
ing the motives of voluntary conduct, and in keeping alive 
the vividness of interest necessary to the pursuit of a dis- 
tant and difficult end. One other aspect of the case ought, 
however, to be brought more definitely into the foreground. 

^ The German method of conducting war has made the truth of 
this sentence very doubtful. 



240 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Transitory Instincts. — The instances which we have 
chosen as illustrative of the general truth under discussion 
involve emotions which characterize somewhat indifferently 
all periods of life. Certain there are which are more defi- 
nitely periodic in character, belonging to particular stages 
of life or to particular forms of human experience. The 
adolescent period is generally characterized by a much 
more vivid interest of the sexes in one another than is met 
with at an earlier age, and of a character in some par- 
ticulars quite unique as compared with that which has gone 
before. This type of interest, once developed, may extend 
indefinitely throughout later life, but it is apt to be most 
acute in its earlier stages and clearly takes its rise from 
the radical changes in the bodily organization which occur 
at that time. As compared with either anger or fear, this 
sex instinct is evidently more definitely limited to par- 
ticular periods and to particular situations in life. 

Of a similar episodal character is the love of the mother 
for her child, an instinct which obviously can have no full 
development in the earlier years of life and which may with 
childless women pass largely without expression. Despite 
the somewhat incidental character of this impulse, there is 
none in the whole range of the human instinctive equip- 
ment capable of more complete domination of the life of 
the possessor. These two instances may serve to represent 
a group of instincts which are in some particulars transi- 
tory, and, as compared with many others, of a distinctly 
more periodic character. 

Intellectual and Aesthetic Impulses. — Although un- 
doubtedly rarer as dominantly controlling influences in 
life, but nevertheless involving a genuine instinctive basis, 
should be mentioned those types of impulse which lead to 



WILL, INSTINCT, AND CHARACTER 241 

the pursuit of definitely intellectual ends. Thus certain 
individuals are said to have strong scientific interests, 
strong scholarly interests, and the like. These spring 
undoubtedly out of curiosity, or what may be called the 
hunting instinct in its intellectual form, the play instinct, 
and the instinct of construction. Probably no great scien- 
tist ever lived who did not feel an overweening inquisitive- 
ness about the field in which he worked, who did not have 
something of the thrill of the hunter close upon his quarry, 
who did not find the pursuit of his science presenting all 
the thrill and stimulation of a game, with something of 
the competitive and combative instinct called out by the 
opposition of rival scientists, — ^who did not, in other 
words, carry on his work, however purely cold and intel- 
lectual it appears to the outsider, with much of the fervor 
and heat of the primitive animal impulse. '^ 

Similarly the artist responds in his professional work to 
a group of motives which are even more frankly of the 
instinctive kind. We have not listed in the catalogue of 
instincts any reference to the sense of beauty, nor would 
it be possible to include in any single term all that is 
involved in the constructive artistic impulse. It involves 
the play instinct, it often involves something of imitation, 
it involves strongly the tendency to self-expression, it has 
in it much of constructiveness, and it is saturated with 
appreciation of beauty, whether of nature, of one's own 
artistic production or of that of others. But however poor 
and inadequate our terminology, there can be no question 
that with many individuals the impulse for artistic con- 
struction predominates over most other motives, and that 
it is in a perfectly real sense native. No doubt all of us 
have vestiges of these more intellectualistic and artistic 



242 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

impulses, but viewing mankind in the large, such motives 
take on power to control and determine the careers of only 
a few individuals. 

Well Developed Character Depends on Balance 
Among Instincts. — What we had in mind in speaking of 
the development of volition as involving organization and 
balance among our instinctive propensities will perhaps 
now be more obvious than before. Certainly on the nega- 
tive side it is clear that a life dominated by impulses of 
anger or of fear would create in the one case an anti- 
social and impossible character, and in the other a morbid 
and craven individuality. Over against such one-sidedness 
may be set the extreme sentimentalist whose entire life is 
a mere wallow of ill-directed sympathy. Such persons are 
the curse of many a deserving religious or ethical institu- 
tion. Under the cloak of a fine and pure altruism they 
represent in fact a spineless and flabby tolerance for things 
and persons intrinsically intolerable. Not unknown is the 
individual so inflated with vanity and self-esteem as to 
render impossible all ordinary social relations. But little 
less distressing is the occasional person so afflicted with self- 
abasement, self-distrust, and timidity as again to render 
any normal participation in the business of society hope- 
lessly impossible. Even so fine an instinct as that of 
parental pride and affection may be exploited to a point 
where it constitutes a neighborhood nuisance and an object 
of ridicule to all sane folk. 

These instances will surely suffice to exhibit that which is 
involved in a reasonable balance of our instinctive equip- 
ment. To describe with precision wherein such balance 
consists would no doubt be difficult, if not impossible. But 
on the other hand there is no particular difficulty in dis- 



WILL, INSTINCT, AND CHARACTER 243 

cerning the lack of balance when it occurs in any marked 
degree, and it may obviously arise, as has been said, either 
out of the exaggeration of one or more of the instinctive 
groups, or from the suppression, partial or complete, of 
others. The history of civilization exhibits the process 
through which, little by little, the ordinary individual has 
come to develop such an equilibrium among his instincts 
as will permit a complex organization of the social structure. 
A moment's reflection will serve to show that the group of 
instincts most essential to the life of a primitive hunting 
people will differ decidedly from the group of those re- 
quisite to an agricultural form of life, and that both will 
make quite different demands upon instinctive traits from 
those needed in a highly organized industrial community. 
In each form of life the great motive powers which move 
the individual are found in these instinctive springs, but 
the particular balance best suited to one economic and 
cultural stage may well be quite different from that essen- 
tial in another. 

Volition and the Sources of Our Controlling Interests. 
— The view has been presented in this chapter that to will 
is, psychologically, to attend, and that in the process of 
attention we may expect to find the crucial features of 
volition. In connection with this doctrine it remains to add 
one further consideration, to wit, that the direction of 
attention is largely determined by interest. In a practical, 
common-sense way everyone recognizes that the mind tends 
to dwell most persistently upon topics of interest. This 
fact, when translated into terms of conduct, means that 
we tend to choose those lines of thought and action most 
compatible with these interests. When we attempt to 
catalog and classify the general range of human interests, 



244 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

we find that the predominant and most widely distributed 
varieties center in our racial instincts, upon which we have 
just been commenting. Side by side with these general 
types which we share with all our fellows, e.g., interest in 
food, in warmth, in power, and in social prestige, is to be 
placed a group varying from individual to individual, but 
derived from a common source, i.e., such tastes, prejudices, 
and talents as spring from our personal family heritage in 
contrast with our human racial traits. 

In every community there are certain to be individuals 
enjoying some peculiar capacity w^hich by common repute 
has come down by inheritance in the family of the person 
concerned. This kind of thing is likely to escape attention 
unless the talents involved are of a somewhat unusual 
order. Nevertheless, the genuineness of the facts can 
hardly be called in question. Here is a child early mani- 
festing marked interest in music and decided ability in that 
direction. Often in such cases it will be found that one 
or both parents enjoy the same marked characteristics, and 
frequently the quality can be traced back through a long 
ancestry. Around inherited predispositions of this kind is 
likely to grow up a set of interests which may be quite as 
imperious in their control over the conduct of the indi- 
vidual as are any of the more strictly racial tendencies. 
So far as the individual himself is concerned, interests of 
this character are quite as innate as any of the more purely 
instinctive kind, but it is clear that they represent a highly 
specialized group of traits which for some unknown reason 
have developed in a particular stock and are in no such 
degree common to men in general. 

Even more striking than these cases of inherited family 
talent, with their accompanying intellectual and emotional 



WILL, INSTINCT, AND CHARACTER 245 

interests, are the rare but well authenticated instances of 
the occasional outcropping in a given person of remarkable 
tastes and abilities in no wise to be discovered in any of 
the immediate ancestors. This type of thing represents in 
an extreme form what is, no doubt, in lesser degree true of 
all men, to wit, an element of individual variation, carrying 
with it peculiar abilities and interests in no literal sense to 
be found in any other individual. The genius is conspicu- 
ously of this type. Perhaps the commonest example is rep- 
resented by the appearance of marked intellectual interests 
and unusual intellectual talent in the child of wholly 
uneducated and commonplace parents. 

It appears, then, that the controlling interests of any 
individual may derive from one or more of three different 
sources: (1) racial instincts, (2) family traits, and (3) 
individual variations, representing in nervous and mental 
organization what the botanists and zoologists call a 'sport,' 
that is to say, a variation which cannot at present be 
explained in any ordinary terms of inheritance. As the 
individual grows and develops, these centers of interest are 
necessarily brought into relation with one another, and 
some sort of organization is established. Certain interests, 
or groups of interests, gradually tend to attain mastery 
over the others. It must not be supposed that this state- 
ment implies the opposition of one group as a whole to 
another group. The controlling system may have in it 
elements from all three sources, and it is often extremely 
difficult to distinguish influences emanating from groups 
(2) and (3) respectively. Little by little, however, it 
comes to pass that there is established a certain system 
under which our daily life is passed. 

Limitations Upon the Response to Interests. — ^Nor do 



246 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

our interests merely as such enjoy a free fling in their own 
cultivation. The rugged and obstinate facts of the phys- 
ical, social, and financial world create barriers beyond 
which we cannot pass, and within which we are obliged as 
best we may to seek fulfilment for our desires and ambi- 
tions. The direction, however, which the development of 
our conduct and character takes is essentially determined 
by this great nucleus of interests. Some we are born with, 
some, in a sense, we seem to acquire. But whatever the 
history of their origin, they are within us the eternal well- 
springs of our energy and activity. 

An interesting instance of the way in which our instinc- 
tive traits are molded by social influences is exhibited in 
the facts of imitation. Although there are at least two, 
and perhaps more, forms of imitation, the one highly naive, 
essentially reflex and characteristic of early childhood, the 
other more reflective and purposeful, many psychologists 
have been disposed to admit the essentially instinctive char- 
acter of both. Certain it is that our mastery of most, if 
not all, of the forms of social intercourse known as etiquette 
rests upon imitative activities in which the individual is 
obligated by social pressure to follow the pattern set by 
usage. The occasional social anarchist who attempts to 
flout these usages speedily finds himself an outcast, or 
established in the unenviable category of the social freak» 
From earliest childhood on we are subjected to the inces- 
sant pressure of social customs, which on their higher levels 
appear as law, or as moral principles, whose rational justi- 
fication is sooner or later urged upon us. In the thousand 
and one eccentricities of local or national usage we are 
thrown back for our acceptance of the established practices 
upon a purely unrational mandate to the effect that ''all 



WILL, INSTINCT, AND CHARACTER 247 

well-bred people do it. ' ' To defy one of these mandates is 
to exclude one's self from the walks of polite society. 
Why should one lift his hat to a gentleman in Germany, 
but only to a lady in America ? Why should one entertain 
a prejudice against the use of a steel knife for the purposes 
of a fork in polite circles in the United States, while no 
such prejudice is entertained in lower circles in this 
country, and neither in high nor low circles in certain parts 
of the Continent ? Why should gentlemen in Europe wear 
their hair short and in Asia long ? Why should ladies wear 
skirts in Europe and trousers in Manchuria ? Why should 
the usage be exactly reversed for men? These questions 
have no rational answers, but to violate the dictates of the 
several usages involved is to reap a form of social whirl- 
wind which few persons are curious or courageous enough 
to experiment with. 

Development From Muscular to Intellectual and 
Moral Control. — Looking back over the materials of the 
last two chapters, it will be seen that the early stages of 
development of voluntary control are necessarily directed 
to the gaining of command over the muscles ; that as soon 
as this motor control is established we proceed forthwith to 
make our muscles the tools for carrying out our aims, for 
securing our ends. The character of these purposes and 
aims is determined in the first instance by the urgencies 
of our instincts and appetites. In the early stages of life, 
those interests which are most immediately related to. 
bodily comfort and sustenance are in the foreground. They 
never wholly lose their significance for us, but as maturity 
is gained they rapidly lapse into the background, giving 
way to other forms of interests connected more definitely 
with our social and moral relations and with the growth 



248 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

of our general intellectual life. Not the least important 
of the features of this later stage of our development is our 
growing control over the process of thought itself. The 
little child is quite incapable of sustained reflection. The 
disciplined adult is able to give himself if necessary for 
hours at a time to undiverted thought upon his own future 
conduct. This gain in power is primarily a gain in ability 
to hold attention to a process of thought. When a decision 
is reached, the line of conduct selected is carried out by 
the muscles almost automatically. 



CHAPTER XVI 

SLEEP, DREAMS, HYPNOSIS, AND MULTIPLE 
PERSONALITY 

Over against our waking experiences, with which our dis- 
cussions have hitherto dealt, are properly to be mentioned 
certain facts about sleep which occupies the other part of 
our lives and which is characterized by a peculiar form of 
consciousness of its own, that we call the dream. 

Main Facts About Sleep. — Despite the extended and 
ingenious experimental investigations of sleep, there is still 
among physiologists no complete agreement as to its causes. 
The dogmatic statements which are often made about it 
must, therefore, be understood as expressing the opinion 
of individuals rather than the final verdict of science. Cer- 
tain general features of the phenomenon may be mentioned. 

Although in sleep the central nervous system is clearly 
less excitable than during waking periods, it would be a 
mistake to think of it as in any sense completely inactive. 
Sensory stimulations which in waking conditions would 
produce sensations may, in sleep, be quite ineffective; but 
the presence of dreams and of certain of the reflexes, to 
say nothing of the activities of the autonomic system, 
whereby the vegetative processes of the organism are main- 
tained, show clearly that neural excitation of some kind is 
in progress. During sleep the blood vessels of the brain 
are relaxed, and the pressure in the entire body is lowered. 
A common view is that sleep is to be regarded as an instine- 

249 



250 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tive reaction, which is favored by conditions of moderate 
fatigue, of quiet, of habit, and of expectancy, although no 
one of these alone may be able to induce it in a given 
instance. There seems to be no doubt that during sleep 
the waste of tissues which goes on during the waking period 
is repaired, and there is good evidence that the cell bodies 
of the neurones restore certain of their substances which 
are broken down during waking. Experiments have made 
it quite certain, too, that under normal conditions the depth 
of sleep, as measured by the power of an auditory stimulus 
to awaken the sleeper, increases for about three-quarters of 
an hour to an hour, then falls very rapidly until between 
the third and fourth hour, after which an extremely slight 
sound may cause awakening. 

Dreams. — The diversity of opinion regarding the imme- 
diate causes of sleep is reflected in a similar divergence of 
opinion regarding the continuous presence of dreams dur- 
ing sleep. Undoubtedly the commoner view today is that 
absolutely dreamless sleep probably does not occur. Our 
frequent inability to recall dreams is attributed to the 
rapidity with which we forget them upon awakening. 

There is little question that the stimulus to the beginning 
of a dream is often a sensory excitation, a sound, the 
pressure of the bed clothing, the chill of a draught of air, 
or the like. But once the dream is started, the course which 
it takes is apparently controlled by much the same associa- 
tive principles as we have previously described in connec- 
tion with memory and imagination, but under little or no 
control from any definite purpose or intention, such as 
commonly presides over our trains of waking thought. 

Freud, the Austrian psychologist, has recently urged that 
all dreams represent the expression of suppressed wishes 



SLEEP, DREAMS, AND HYPNOSIS 251 

which one dares not frankly confront during waking 
moments. He also believes that the particular ideas and 
images in which the dream is embodied are symbolic and 
often represent situations quite other than those immedi- 
ately suggested by the images themselves. Freud believes 
that in this way many desires and wishes are cherished 
and given realization in the dream imagination, which 
could otherwise gain no hearing, because of their hostility 
to the ideals and prejudices of the waking mind. Thus 
one's moral convictions might altogether prevent the 
indulgence overtly in acts which in this more or less sym- 
bolic dream form are freely cultivated. The dream thus 
offers a field for the fruition of a great group of impulses 
and desires which the inhibitions of society and of moral 
training exclude from waking experience. 

Fatigue. — Whatever the explanations of sleep and 
dreams, there can be no question that sleep is essential for 
the repair of the physical and mental exhaustion coming 
from work. Fatigue is a perfectly normal phenomenon, 
and may, indeed, be thought of as essential to many forms 
of growth. Certainly no one can secure hard and well 
disciplined muscles who does not use them to the point of 
fatigue. On the other hand, over-fatigue may be a very 
serious matter, and any type of experience which robs us 
of sleep for any considerable period of time is likely to be 
extremely disastrous. Experiments have made it fairly 
clear, as mentioned above, that the nerve cells undergo 
definite physical changes under excessive use, in which cer- 
tain of the tissues contained within them are used up. 
Similarly it has been shown that the muscles under fatigue 
become clogged with waste material, and the blood is 
invaded by poisonous elements thrown into it by the action 



252 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

of the body tissues. Under normal conditions the recupera- 
tion from fatigue is prompt and complete. 

Conditions of Effective Work. — Evidently the highest 
efficiency implies such a combination of periods of work 
with periods pf rest as shall enable the maximum accom- 
plishment compatible with the maintenance of the organism 
in robust condition. One can 'spurt' for a considerable 
period of time under pressure, but such spurts are in- 
evitably followed by disproportionately long periods of 
rest, if one is to regain one's original freshness. Most 
individuals organize their daily lives in too haphazard a 
manner to make this matter of work and rest of any great 
consequence. This is another way of saying that they waste 
a very large part of their time and energy. It is quite 
possible to ascertain with approximate correctness the 
length of the intervals during which one can work intently 
to advantage, and also the length of the interval of rest 
which may best follow upon such occupation. 

For the average person of sedentary life, engaged upon 
intellectual tasks, an hour or two of really concentrated 
labor is likely to be as much as can be profitably indulged 
without respite, if one is to work successfully day after 
day. It is often said that the only rest which is then 
needed is a change to some other form of work. But the 
best experimental evidence does not confirm this. The 
resting interval should be occupied in a way to furnish a 
minimum of mental exercise and this of a diverting and 
recreative character. Mild physical exercise is good, but 
severe physical activity is itself tiring, producing an 
unfavorable effect upon any immediately succeeding mental 
operation. The best studies of fatigue indicate quite 
strongly that mental and physical fatigue are in the last 



SLEEP, DREAMS, AND HYPNOSIS 253 

analysis one. The length of the interval of rest ought not 
to be so brief as to leave one still feeling dull and tired, 
and on the other hand it ought not to be so long as to 
oblige us to start at the beginning in 'getting up steam/ 
for it is a common observation that in undertaking any 
serious task there is a period of 'warming up.' It is 
obviously in the interest of efficiency to abbreviate this 
period as much as possible. 

Pillsbury and other investigators have shown that indi- 
viduals vary considerably as regards the time of the day 
when they work to best advantage. This does not mean 
that the ordinary individual is incapacitated for work 
altogether at any particular time. It does mean, however, 
that some persons can accomplish their best work in the 
morning, some in the afternoon, and some in the evening. 
It goes without saying that these peculiarities are to some 
extent subject to training, and that what appears to be 
a preference for one of these periods may in point of fact 
be only a result of a habit, which can by the expenditure 
of effort be changed. 

The subject of sleep and dreams leads naturally to a 
few comments upon certain other variations of normal con- 
sciousness which are of interest. 

Production of Hypnosis. — Hypnosis, which, as the 
word suggests, is a state in many particulars closely re- 
sembling sleep, has attracted wide scientific attention in 
recent years. Skilful operators can transfer a person in 
normal sleep to a condition of hypnosis. But ordinarily 
the hypnotic condition is induced by special processes 
which result in throwing the waking patient into a condi- 
tion at first resembling light slumber. 

There are many methods for producing hypnosis. Some 



254 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

are successful with given individuals, but fail with others. 
Practically all normal persons who desire to be hypnotized 
can by one method or another, if the attempt is repeated 
often enough, be at least slightly affected, and a very con- 
siderable number can be drawn into the deeper forms of 
hypnosis. Whatever the detail of the procedure, the 
methods all have in common the fixing of attention upon 
some monotonous, and if possible, soothing stimulus. A 
common device is to ^talk sleep' while stroking gently the 
brows of the patient, occasionally making gentle passes with 
the hands down over the arms and trunk. Many of the 
earlier operators were wont to employ fixation of the eyes 
upon some bright object held a little above the bridge of the 
nose, so that to look at it would involve a fairly pronounced 
strain of the eye muscles. Other operators have at times 
used the ticking of a metronome, or the flashing of light 
from rotating mirrors. Others have pressed on the palm 
of the hand. Once a subject has become accustomed to 
following the directions of the operator, who assures him 
from time to time that he is falling asleep, almost any 
signal will serve to bring on the hypnotic condition. 

As in normal sleep, the subject may simply become 
slightly drowsy and then arouse again, or he may sink into 
a deeper sleep lasting for an indefinite period. From this 
sleep he may ordinarily be aroused by the command of the 
operator, or if left alone, he will generally wake up after 
a little while of his own initiative. 

Suggestion in Hypnosis. — Perhaps the most striking 
feature of the hypnotic condition is the patient's remark- 
able susceptibility to suggestions given by the operator. In 
waking life, we are all subject in a certain degree to the 
effects of suggestion. If we are told that a speck high up 



SLEEP, DREAMS, AND HYPNOSIS 255 

in 'the sky is an aeroplane and that by looking sharply we 
can detect the wings of the machine, we are very likely to 
see what we are told, even though the object be a bird and 
not a flying machine. In our discussion of sense perception 
we had occasion to remark that the larger part of the things 
which we see and hear are perceived in accordance with the 
suggestions given to us by the physical objects, rather than 
in any literal sense as they really are. But in hypnosis this 
normal suggestibility is much exaggerated, and is ordi- 
narily confined to the words and acts of the operator. 
Indeed, as we have intimated, the sleep is brought on by a 
process which is essentially one of suggestion. 

People vary very much in the extent to which they are 
affected by hypnotic suggestion, and they tend also to 
become increasingly susceptible under repeated hypnotiz- 
ing. In describing the more conspicuous phenomena, it 
may be understood then that we are describing conditions 
which would not necessarily present themselves in any one 
individual in the earlier hypnotic experiences. 

Symptoms in Hypnosis. — We may roughly group the 
characteristic phenomena under the following headings: 
(1) sensorial, (a) anaesthesia and analgesia; (b) hyper- 
aesthesia; (c) hallucination; (2) amnesia, i.e., loss of 
memory; (3) motor, (a) paralyses; (b) catalepsies; (4) 
post-hypnotic effects. 

(l)(a) It is ordinarily easy to produce by suggestion 
insensitiveness to contact with the skin, even though the 
stimulation be painful. The back of the hand may thus 
be rendered insensitive, so that it will not be moved even 
if cut, pricked, or burned. (1) (b) Similarly it is not diffi- 
cult to produce hypersensitivity of sense perception, as 
may be illustrated either in visual or cutaneous stimulation. 



256 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

If a coin be pressed upon the skin of the forehead, the 
normal individual can generally perceive the object as 
circular in shape, but this is usually all. The hypnotized 
person may be quite able to give an approximately correct 
report of the design on the coin. Again, if a pack of fifty 
plain cards, like calling cards, be shown to the hypnotized 
individual, and he be asked to note one in particular, he 
can, after the cards are shuffled, pick out the original with 
a precision far excelling that of the ordinary individual. 
To make this test it is of course essential to have the critical 
card marked on the reverse side in some way to permit the 
experimenter to identify it. 

(1) (e) The evidence about the production of hallucina- 
tions is somewhat ambiguous, but it is generally accepted 
that in the deeper hypnoses at least they may be encoun- 
tered. If the subject be presented with a blank piece of 
paper upon which he is assured there appears a sketch of 
a tree, he may agree, upon being asked, that he actually 
sees the tree; and if a pencil be put in his hand, he will 
ordinarily trace the outline of the fictitious suggested 
object. Despite a good many forms of control, it is difficult 
to be sure whether in every such case the subject really 
sees what he alleges, or whether he simply gives verbal 
assent to the suggestion and adjusts his conduct to fit the 
circumstances as the operator describes them. 

(2) There is great variation regarding the degree to 
which upon being aroused from the hypnotic sleep different 
subjects recall what has gone on, but after deep hypnosis, 
there is usually almost complete forgetfulness of what has 
occurred. The memory of the period is, however, obviously 
preserved, because in a subsequent hypnosis every detail of 
the experience may be recalled. Moreover, if, during the 



SLEEP, DREAMS, AND HYPNOSIS 257 

sleep, it be suggested that the subject will recall a par- 
ticular circumstance upon awakening, it is practically 
certain to be remembered. 

(3) (a) One of the most easily produced results and one 
which is often used as a definite symptom of the presence 
of genuine hypnosis is the inability to move the voluntary 
muscles, especially those of the eyelids. At a certain point 
in the oncoming of the hypnotic sleep the operator says: 
''Now you cannot open your eyes"; and sure enough, 
struggle as he may, the patient finds that he cannot lift his 
lids. (3) (b) In the same fashion the muscles, if put into 
a given position, the suggestion being added that they can- 
not be moved, will remain for an astounding length of time 
rigid and tense. Under these conditions they will sustain 
a strain quite beyond their normal capacity. The stock 
exhibition of this phase of hypnotic phenomena consists in 
stretching the patient out with head and heels resting on 
two chairs and the rest of the body unsupported. This 
achievement is quite beyond the muscular powers of most 
individuals, but under hypnosis considerable weight may 
be added to the subject's own body without destroying the 
muscular resistance. 

(4) Amazing as are many of these peculiarities of 
hypnosis, the ability to carry over the effects of suggestion 
into the subsequent waking life of the subject is even more 
striking. The therapeutic value of hypnotism has generally 
been regarded as depending largely on this feature. A 
person suffering from morbid dreads or anxieties, when 
assured in hypnotic sleep that on awakening these mental 
disturbers will not be encountered, is often freed from the 
distress and suffering for a considerable length of time. 
The most scientific treatment of nervous and mental trou- 



258 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

bles, however, is not today made dependent upon this type 
of direct suggestion. We cannot enter here into any 
detailed explanation of the reasons for this change of pro- 
cedure. Suffice it to say that more lasting results are 
gotten in other ways. The point here is that suggestions 
given during hypnosis are often carried out after awaken- 
ing in the most remarkable way, and often without any 
consciousness on the part of the patient that he is executing 
commands which have been previously given to him. 

For experimental purposes a common type of demonstra- 
tion would be illustrated by an operator's instructing a 
patient to return at a certain hour three weeks later, bring- 
ing with him some quite improbable object, like a basket of 
fish. Odd as it may seem, in nine cases out of ten the 
patient and the fish will be forthcoming at the time and 
place set. Not only so, but the victim of the experiment is 
fairly certain to turn up provided with an ingenious 
account of why he has come. Moreover, the whole per- 
formance may be carried out without suspicion on the part 
of the subject that he is serving the cause of an experi- 
mental demonstration. 

The psychological explanation of these post-hypnotic sug- 
gestions is not at all clear, although in many cases what 
seems to happen is that the suggested idea begins to grow 
and develop and justify itself from the time it is first 
implanted until it comes to fruition. In general the 
explanation of hypnotic behavior is far from certain, and 
all that can be said briefly is perhaps that most, if not all, 
of the phenomena encountered appear to hinge upon the 
severing of the marginal portions of consciousness from the 
focus, and this focus appears to be determined by the 
operator. The practical effect of the situation is to 



SLEEP, DREAMS, AND HYPNOSIS 259 

eliminate the ordinary inhibitive influences of opposing 
ideas, which under normal conditions would enter to 
modify and control the subject's behavior. Such restrain- 
ing ideas being absent, the subject carries out by his 
actions the thoughts which are thus left in possession of the 
field.^ 

Trance Mediumship. — This condition of hypnosis pre- 
sents many similarities to the so-called trances of the spir- 
itualistic mediums. Although it seems necessary to admit 
that a considerable proportion of the professional mediums 
are fakes and charlatans, there is no question at all that 
certain individuals, perhaps victims of hysteria, pass from 
time to time into a condition where they become more or 
less oblivious to ordinary sense impressions and either 
verbally or by writing express the thoughts and sentiments 
of some ' spirit control. ' Under these conditions they 
purport to convey information and advice regarding mat- 
ters of which they are themselves entirely ignorant. Many 
of them have laid claim to supernatural physical powers, 
such as the ability without physical contact to lift a table 
and hold it suspended in the air. In practically every 
case where these pretended supernatural capacities have 
been carefully studied, they have been found dependent 
upon clever tricks of one kind or another, which have been 
successfully repeated by stage jugglers and magicians who 
lay no claim to anything but cleverness and prestidigita- 
tion. Meantime, the trance condition is undoubtedly real 
in a certain number of these cases; but it does not follow 
that the alleged clairvoyant and telepathic powers which 
these persons often claim have any basis in fact. It is 

* No inexperienced person should attempt to hypnotize. Serious 
harm may be done. 



260 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

fair to say, however, that not a few men of high scientific 
standing, and perhaps foremost among them the late Pro- 
fessor William James, have been quite convinced that some 
of the knowledge possessed by the trance mediums cannot 
be explained on the basis of our ordinary methods of sense 
perception, nor by the communication of ideas from mind 
to mind through language or other physical signs. It is 
equally fair to say that the great mass of competent scien- 
tific opinion is quite of another kind, that it refuses to 
recognize any appreciable body of well-established evidence 
calling for belief in ^ telepathic or spiritualistic communi- 
cations, whether as between living people or between the 
living and the dead. 

Multiple Personality. — Just as the phenomena of 
dreams, which are perfectly normal experiences of every 
human being, lead us out gradually into phenomena of an 
essentially abnormal kind, so certain conflicts within our 
characters suggest in a very rudimentary way the begin- 
nings of abnormal divisions of personality. Few more 
interesting phenomena have been studied in modern psy- 
chology than the so-called 'multiple personalities.' Al- 
though in the last analysis the several varieties are prob- 
ably all reducible to a common type and are all symptoms 
of hysteria, the division suggested by Alfred Binet is 
convenient for the few comments which we can make upon 
the matter. He distinguishes successive and simultaneous 
alterations of personality. 

In the successive form, the patient may wake up some 
morning to find that he has entirely forgotten all his 
previous life, his name along with the rest. Whereas 
before he may have been a somewhat lethargic person of 
equable temperament, he is now extremely active and of 



SLEEP, DREAMS, AND HYPNOSIS 261 

somewhat irascible bent. He starts in to build up a new 
life, oftentimes disappearing entirely from his old haunts. 
His memory processes go back only to the beginning of 
his attack, but from that point on they may be entirely 
accurate. Suddenly, some weeks or months later on, he 
reverts to his original character. The memories of the 
secondary state disappear wholly or almost wholly, and 
often he succeeds after a time in getting back to his old 
home. This type of alteration may occur again and again 
throughout a long lifetime, and it may be complicated by 
the introduction of two or three more similar personalities. 
In each state he may find himself more or less completely 
cut off from memory of the other alternating states. 

In the case of the simultaneous multiplication of per- 
sonalities, it is as though these successive states were in 
some fashion telescoped upon one another, so that in a 
certain sense they co-exist side by side. It is extremely 
difficult to frame any readily understood picture of how 
this kind of thing may go on, but the reader may with 
great delight to himself follow the dramatic history of 
one such case in Dr. Morton Prince's Dissociation of a 
Personality. In this case there is -a constant struggle of 
the several personalities, whose characters differ from one 
another in the most radical way, to secure control over the 
speech and conduct of the afflicted person. Sometimes one 
comes out ahead, and sometimes the other. The memories 
of one are quite hidden from access to some, at least, of 
the others. 

Subconscious Processes. — These eases of multiple per- 
sonality of all varieties exhibit in the most striking way 
the extent to which subconscious processes may operate. 
They all tend to suggest that the divisions underlying these 



262 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

disturbances are connected with the distinction between the 
focus and the margin of our awareness. If concentration 
becomes highly intense, there may be a severance of the 
central from the peripheral regions of our consciousness, 
and what goes on in the margin may then get itself split 
off as a type of subconscious activity. Obviously elements 
which are represented in the margin may in no true sense 
be really lost to the organism as a whole, but they may be 
quite completely excluded from access by the focal parts 
of the mind. In normal conditions this type of thing is 
represented when we become so absorbed in what we are 
reading that we do not notice the striking of the clock; 
and yet five or ten minutes later we may 'come to' and 
feel quite sure that although we did not notice it at the 
time, the bell was actually heard. In the same way if our 
attention is keenly preoccupied, we may do the most 
absurd things under the guidance, more or less sub- 
conscious, of our habitual activities. The stock instance of 
the man who goes upstairs in the early evening to put on 
evening dress preparatory to an invasion of society, only 
to find himself in bed as the result of carrying out the 
operations necessarily begun in the changing of his attire, 
is a perfectly good example of this type of thing. Who 
is there that has. not become so preoccupied when on the 
way home that he has gone far past the proper turning 
point and been obliged to retrace his steps. These instances 
one and all tell the same story of the part played by the 
marginal elements in our awareness, which ordinarily pre- 
vent our cutting too completely adrift from our actual 
surroundings. 



CHAPTER XVII 
THE SELF 

It has been necessary thus far to deal with the several 
elements of human behavior to some extent independently 
of one another, although certain of their interconnections 
have been pointed out. We have found the mind to be an 
adjustive activity making use of sensory and ideational 
materials in order to gain control over its environment. 
We have noted the -part played by instinct and feeling and 
emotion in determining its fundamental attitudes toward 
this environment, and we have observed something of the 
way in which motor coordinations are built up out of the 
raw material of uncontrolled movements, until adequate 
habits are finally established fit to cope with the exigencies 
of life. We have remarked throughout all this process of 
growth, as one of its great practical results, the develop- 
ment of character, with its rational principles of conduct, 
its cherished ideals, its established modes of social behavior. 
Now it behooves us in conclusion to dwell for a little upon 
the personal self, whose experiences we have thus analyzed. 

The Identity of the Self. — There is a deep-seated popu- 
lar conviction, resting perhaps as much on tradition as on 
any intuitive or reasoned certainty, that the self continues 
in some way unchanged from moment to moment and from 
year to year. In any event, contributing to this convic- 
tion of the persistence of an identical self are many factors, 
and ranking high among them in importance is undoubt- 
edly the fact of memory. I can recall today and again 

263 



264 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

tomorrow the events of last year, and the memories of 
them may appear very similar on both occasions, may 
elicit the same feelings and the same motor reactions, so 
that I come naturally and without much reflection to de- 
velop a sense of sameness in myself. My anticipations also 
play a part, for again and again there recur the same 
desires for the same ends as yet unattained. Another fact 
which doubtless contributes to the total result is my fairly 
constant, though dim and vague, awareness of my own 
organism. The importance of this consideration is sug- 
gested by the fact that any serious disturbances in the 
organic sensations, which report to us the bodily condi- 
tions, occasion great uneasiness and distress, and, if pro- 
found, may form the basis of malign mental disease. Not 
least striking among the more immediate forms of evidence 
is the fact that after sleep or any form of unconsciousness, 
the mind normally resumes its hold upon the interrupted 
stream of events, claims its own out of the past and goes 
on as though no interruption had occurred. More subtle 
is the contention that the very notion of consciousness, 
like the derivation of the word (con-scious-ness — ^knowl- 
edge over against something), involves a subject, a per- 
sonal agent, a knower, presumably the same from instant 
to instant, who knows the particular idea present at the 
moment, feels the pleasure or pain and wills the action 
determined upon. What we have been describing in this 
book is on this showing simply the content of the mental 
states of such a knower. Finally, philosophical and re- 
ligious speculations have furnished an impressive body of 
doctrine concerning the perdurable character of the soul, 
which tends distinctly to confirm this widespread convic- 
tion of a persistent identity in the self. 



THE SELF 265 

Objections to the Common Idea of Self Identity. — 

There are, however, certain facts which cannot be easily 
reconciled to this view. While it is true that we remember 
much of our former experience, it is also true that we for- 
get much. If we are going to rest the unchanging identity 
of the self on its retention of its own past in memory, it 
must be frankly admitted that the identity is only partial, 
for many portions of one 's experience fade out and cannot 
be revived. Desire and anticipation similarly change and 
develop, despite the existence of a core of such desires 
which may remain fairly constant. Obviously the self at 
forty years of age is better informed than the self of four, 
or even than that of fourteen. It has very different memo- 
ries, different tastes, prejudices and abilities. Character 
at these different stages is apt to be widely different. Ob- 
viously, too, the physical body changes in very marked 
ways as the years go by, and to some extent the organic 
sensations by which it reports to the mind are likely also 
to change — slowly to be sure, but none the less certainly. 
Furthermore, the cases of dissociated multiple personality 
described in the previous chapter serve to show how flexible 
and plastic the self may be. All things considered, there- 
fore, we must recognize that such identity as the self pos- 
sesses is probably not altogether of the type assumed by 
common-sense and popular tradition. Two additional cir- 
cumstances should, however, be noted. 

Continuity of the Self. — There is (1) undoubtedly a 
continuity in the life of the self which is in one respect 
like that possessed by all living organisms. The oak tree 
is different in almost every particular from the acorn from 
which it grew, and yet we speak of it unhesitatingly as the 
same tree year after year. It has a continuous life and 



266 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

this fact we recognize in our manner of speech about it, 
however widely its appearance may vary from season to 
season and from decade to decade. This same continuity 
of life man obviously enjoys, but beyond this is the fact 
that he knows and feels this continuity as the plants and 
many of the animals presumably do not. This continuity 
of experience does not for a moment preclude growth and 
change, as the more rigid and static conceptions of personal 
identity seem to do. It rather renders such alterations 
intelligible, as stages in the evolutionary adjustment 
of a living mind to the shifting winds of cir- 
cumstance. 

Unifying Tendency of the Self. — Again there is (2) a 
very genuine sense in which the self may be considered as 
an organized unity. Despite the fact that many of our 
experiences are lost from the mind through forgetfulness, 
despite the facts of dissociated personality and despite 
lapses in moral behavior, one of the great outstanding 
characteristics of normal mental phenomena is that they 
tend to cohere into connected personal groups with syste- 
matic principles of organization. Intelligent processes of 
adjustment would, indeed, be impossible were this not the 
case. While never at any one time then a completely and 
perfectly unified affair, the self possesses intrinsically 
unifying and organizing tendencies. As long as it con- 
tinues to grow, it is always expanding its boundaries and 
organizing more thoroughly its possessions. 

Thus far we have dealt only with certain general aspects 
of the problem of the self as this emerges from popular 
tradition. We must now inquire more precisely what is 
the actual content of the individual's idea of the self 
both in his own person and in others. This will lead us 



THE SELF 267 

to examine briefly the conditions under which the con- 
sciousness of self develops. 

Social Origin of the Idea of Self. — It may be alleged 
with reasonable confidence that the consciousness of the 
self does not appear ready made, but that it is a result of 
a slow process of growth. There seem to be fairly good 
reasons for believing that one of the early distinctions 
remarked by the child is that between persons and things. 
Things are relatively stable and uniform in their modes 
of behavior. They are unmoved by the child's desires, by 
;his gestures or his cries. Persons on the other hand, while 
;in some ways more variable and unreliable, are vastly 
I more responsive to the child's appeals, and they minister 
to his comfort and the satisfaction of his desires in a 
manner wholly unique. Moreover, as soon as sufficient 
motor control is obtained to permit this indulgence, per- 
sons afford much the best and most interesting patterns 
for imitation. Such imitation repeatedly brings agreeable 
and exhilarating results. Perhaps most important of the 
contributions made by persons to the emergence of the 
idea of the self is the gift of intelligent speech. And not 
least significant in the use of language is the fact that 
the child is referred to by a name and no other person 
or thing shares it. It is his by exclusive proprietorship. 
The personal pronouns are also taught him and gradually 
he begins to read into them correct and adequate meanings. 
On every side he is thus surrounded by infli?,ences which 
tend (1) to draw his attention to personality, as con- 
cretely embodied in other human beings, and which (2) 
strongly impel him to think and speak of himself as a 
person. There can accordingly be no question that the 
definite consciousness of self appears amid social relations 



268 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

and in response to social incentives. It is from the first 
a distinctly social phenomenon. 

Content of the Idea of the Self. — What particular con- 
tent is at this point employed to fill out the idea of self 
it seems very hazardous to allege. Later on in life when 
introspective evidence is more available, we find quite a 
variety of factors reported. To think of the self is ap- 
parently for some persons simply to get a visual image 
of the face or figure as it appears in the mirror. Again 
it may involve the awareness of the organic and kinaes- 
thetic sensations which indicate bodily attitude and con- 
dition. Not infrequently it is a concept built upon one's 
surmise of the esteem in which one is held by others. In 
this case it is likely to be closely identified with descriptive 
verbal ideas, e.g., 'good fellow,' 'able man,' 'cad,' 'fool,' 
accompanied by emotional attitudes of depression or ela- 
tion as the case may be. 

It may occur to the reader that there are many con- 
ditions designated in terms of 'self experience to which 
these descriptions are quite inapplicable. Self-conceit, 
self-confidence, self-distrust, self-sacrifice, self-conscious- 
ness — these and many others will suggest themselves. On 
these instances two comments are to be made. In the first 
place several of the terms apply ordinarily to general at- 
tributes of character, rather than to specific mental experi- 
ences. Such are self-confidence, self-conceit, self-sacrifice. 
In the second place so far as one actually feels self-con- 
fident, or self-conscious, one 's thoughts are not necessarily 
directed to the idea of the self at all. One who feels self- 
confident may be contemplating an act to be performed 
and his self-confidence may consist simply in the absence 
of anxiety and worry. The self-conscious person is likely 



THE SELF 269 

to be afflicted with an inconveniently vivid awareness of 
his own organic discomfort, his tremblkig knees, blushing 
cheeks and awkward gestures, but there may be in his 
thought only the most remote reference to the idea of the 
self. 

It appears therefore that whatever may prove in a given 
individual to be the content of his 'self experiences, the 
mind is only incidentally and occasionally engaged with 
the idea of self and only now and then attentive to the 
*I' complex of organic or other sensations. A constant 
attention to this complex is one of the symptoms of a 
neurotic and morbid temperament. The fact that one's 
thoughts and feelings all belong to the continuous and 
more or less unified experience of a self, must accordingly 
not be confused with the unacceptable doctrine that one 
is always conscious of the self as such. 

There is one differentiation of the idea of the self which 
is based upon actual differences in behavior to which refer- 
ence should be made. In the complexities of civilized life 
a man may be called upon to build up very different habits 
of adjustment to different surroundings, and so it may 
come about that the deportment of the man as observed by 
outsiders may well suggest very divergent types of char- 
acter. The manager in the office at the mill may be gruff, 
abrupt, severe, even harsh. The same man at home may 
be considerate, gentle and affectionate. His companions 
at the club may encounter still a different person and 
these variations of conduct may be multiplied quite in- 
definitely. For each of these 'selves' the man himself 
is likely to entertain a somewhat distinct 'self idea, al- 
though the chances are that in his own appreciation the 
several selves differ from one another far less than appears 



270 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

to his intimate acquaintances to be the case. Self ideas 
of this type are very apt to be colored by regard for one's 
possessions, one's social position and attainments, and this 
is perhaps especially true of the estimates one forms of 
the selves of other men. 

Moral and Religious Influences upon the Self. — Moral 
and religious ideas exhibit peculiarly significant relations 
to the self. The ideas of right and wrong get their 
specific content in the course of the individual's moral 
development and through his reactions to the rewards and 
punishments meted out to him by society. In morals as in 
law the individual finds himself treated as a responsible 
agent and here again therefore his personality, his self- 
hood, is projected into the foreground of his reflective 
attention. 

Religious experience in this respect goes even further 
than the usual moral experience in that it compels the in- 
dividual to think of himself as in relation with a Supreme 
Being whose character is such as his own may become by 
penitence and struggle. There is, in other words, pecu- 
liarly compelling emphasis upon the idea of companionship 
with a perfect self. 

Types of Personality. — *'One of the most interesting 
tasks which the psychology of the future will have to face 
is that of delineating the various typical forms in which 
personality reveals itself. But at present such descrip- 
tions cannot be more than rude impressions of individual 
observers. In history and literature a few of these great 
types have been recognized. We meet here the mystics, 
the poets and dreamers, the seers, some of them fiery, im- 
pulsive personalities, others gentle ascetic souls, but all 
of them, with a gift for vision as against the prosaic 



THE SELF 271 

processes of tedious reasoning, and with varying powers 
of adequate expression for their insight. Then there are 
the scientists and scholars with a religious conviction of 
the worth of plodding care and the paramount value of 
facts. Sometimes this trait is married to fervor and 
emotional tension, sometimes it is embodied in cold calcu- 
lating temperament. Then we find the great leaders of 
men, the military and industrial geniuses who compel by 
sheer force of personality, by aggressive capacity of hand 
or brain; the religious leaders who succeed in awakening 
the spiritual devotion and confidence of men. The average 
man no doubt has in him something of the various elements 
represented by all these great types, but they exercise a 
less imperious sway over him and are conjoined with 
capacities too weak and commonplace to stand out boldly 
from the mass of humanity. ' ' 

Meanwhile we are only just learning how important it 
is for the ultimate welfare of society that each man shall 
be placed where his qualities fit him to serve best, and our 
psychologists are doing more than their share in the per- 
fecting of methods for determining the special combination 
of mental abilities possessed by each individual. When 
these methods are thoroughly assimilated into our educa- 
tional procedure, we may look for a vastly higher order 
of human efficiency and we may hope for a much higher 
average of human happiness and contentment. It is par- 
ticularly important that society be in a position to iden- 
tify and exploit the useful individual variations which are 
now often hopelessly submerged and lost in the rough-and- 
tumble methods by which men get located in special jobs. 
Once settled down, the misfit may go through life, a nui- 
sance to himself and a dead loss to society. 



272 AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY 

Summary. — The reader is now doubtless prepared to 
appreciate from how many different points of view the 
self may be approached and how numerous are the prob- 
lems it presents. In this chapter we have examined a 
few of the considerations bearing upon the ideas of per- 
sonality prevalent among occidental peoples and we have 
tried to outline some of the more familiar and tangible 
of the elements to be discerned in the consciousness of 
self. The whole book, however, is nothing but a sketch 
of the means and methods by which intelligence organizes 
conduct and develops character. The result of this process 
taken in its entirety at any given moment is the real living 
self, which the reader will find most fruitful for both his 
practical and his theoretical interests. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



GENERAL PYSCHOLOGY 

The list contains (a) a few standard treatises marked with an 
asterisk and (b) texts selected because they differ from, or dis- 
tinctly supplement, views presented in this book. 

J. R. Angell, Chapters from Modern Psychology. 
M. W. Calkins, Introduction to Psychology. 
John Dewey, Psychology. 
Knight Dunlap, A System of Psychology. 
William James, Principles of Psychology, 2 Vols.* 

Psychology, Briefer Course. 
C. H. Judd, Psychology, General Introduction. 
G. T. Ladd, Psychology, Descriptive and Explanatory.* 
R. M. Ogden, Introduction to General Psychology. 
W. B. Pillsbury, Fundamentals of Psychology.* 
Josiah Royce, Outlines of Psychology. 
G. S. Stout, Manual of Psychology.* 
E. L. Thorndike, Elements of Psychology. 
E. B. Titchener, Textbook of Psychology.* 
R. M. Yerkes, Introduction to Psychology. 
W. Wundt, Outlines of Psychology. (Trans.) 

MANUALS FOR EXPERIMENTAL EXERCISES 

Requiring no apparatus : 

C. E. Seashore, Elementary Experiments in Psychology. 
Requiring chiefly simple apparatus easily obtained: 
J. V. Breitweiser, Psychological Experiments. 
H. F. Hollings worth, Outlines for Experimental Psychology. 
C. H. Judd, Laboratory Manual of Psychology. 
H. S. Langfeld and F. H. Allport, Elementary Laboratory Course 

in Psychology. (Requires some elaborate apparatus.) 
E. C. Sanford, A Course in Experimental Psychology. (Requires 

elaborate apparatus for a few experiments.) 
L. Witmer, Analytical Psychology. 
Requiring for many of the Experiments more elaborate apparatus: 
E. B. Titchener, Experimental Psychology, 4 Vols. Qualitative 

and quantitative problems are treated in different volumes, 

two being for use by students and two for teachers. 

273 



274 BIBLIOGRAPHY 



PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY AND NEUROLOGY 

H. H. Donaldson, The Growth of the Brain. 

K. Dunlap, Outlines of Psychohiology. 

C. J. Herrick, Introduction to Neurology. 

Ladd and Woodworth, Physiological Psychology. 

J. Loeb, Comparative Physiology of the Brain and Comparative 
Psychology. 

W. McDougall, Primer of Physiological Psychology. 
Body and Mind. 

C. S. Sherrington, Integrative Action of the Nervous System. 

W. Wundt, Principles of Physiological Psychology. (Trans., 
only one volume thus far published.) 

T. Ziehen, Introduction to the Study of Physiological Psy- 
chology (Trans.) 



SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 

J. M. Baldwin, Mental Development, Social and Ethical Inter- 
pretations. 
F. Boas, The Mind of Primitive Man. 
C. H. Cooley, Human Nature and the Social Order. 
W. McDougall, Introduction to Social Psychology. 
E. A. Ross, Social Psychology. 
W. I. Thomas, Source Book of Social Origins. 
W. Wundt, Elements of Folk Psychology (Trans.). 



PSYCHOLOGY OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 

E. S. Ames, Psychology of Religious Experience. 

W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience. 

I. King, Development of Religion. 

J. H. Leuba, Psychological Study of Religion. 

J. B. Pratt, The Psychology of Religious Belief. 

E. D. Starbuck, Psychology of Religion. 

G. M. Stratton, The Psychology of the Religious Life. 



EDUCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 

J. M. Baldwin, Mental Development in the Child and the Race. 

S. S. Colvin, The Learning Process. 

F. N. Freeman, Psychology of the Common Branches. 

How Children Learn. 
K. Gordon, Educational Psychology. 
S. Hall, Adolescence, 2 Vols. 
W. James, Talks to Teachers. 

C. H. Judd, Psychology of the High School Subjects. 
E. A. Kirkpatriek, Fundamentals of Child Study. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 275 

E. Meumann, Psychology of Learning (Trans.)- 

R. Schulze, Experimental Psychology and Pedagogy (Trans.). 

D. Starch, Experiments in Educational Psychology. 

E. L. Thorndike, Educational Psychology, 3 Vols. 



ABNORMAL PSYCHOLOGY 

Hypnosis and Psychotherapy: 

H. Bernheim, Suggestive Therapeutics. 

A. Forel, Hypnotism and Psychotherapy. 

A. Moll, Hypnotism. 

H. Miinsterberg, Psychotherapy. 

Worcester, McComb, and Coriat, Religion and Medicine. 
Sleep and Dreams: 

S. Freud, Interpretation of Dreams (Trans.) 

M. de Manaceine, Sleep, Its Physiology, Pathology, Hygiene and 
Psychology. 
Multiple Personality and Hysteria: 

A. Binet, Alterations of Personality. 

P. Janet, The Major Symptoms of Hysteria. 

M. Prince, Dissociation of Personality. 

Sidis and Goodhart, Multiple Personality. 
The Unconscious and the Subconscious: 

J. Jastrow, The Subconscious. 

M. Prince, The Unconscious. 
Mental Disorders: 

A. I. Brill, Psychoanalysis. 

A. R. Diefendorf, Clinical Psychiatry. 

H. H. Goddard, Feeblemindedness, Its Causes and Consequences. 
Spiritism, Telepathy, Etc.: 

W. F. Barrett, Psychical Research. 

J. E. Coover, Experiments in Psychical Research. 

T. Flournoy, Spiritism and Psychology. 

J. Jastrow, Fact and Fable in Psychology. 

A. Tanner, Studies in Spiritism. 



VOCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY, APPLIED PSYCHOLOGY, AND 
MENTAL TESTS 

H. F. Adams, Advertising and Its Mental Laws. 

Binet and Simon, Development of Intelligence in Children 

(Trans.). 
S. I. Franz, Mental Examination Methods. 
H. L. HoUingsworth, Vocational Psychology. 
H. D. Kitson, How to Use the Mind. 
H. Miinsterberg, Business Psychology. 
Psychology of Crime. 
W. D. Scott, Increasing Human Efficiency in Business. 
Psychology of Advertising. 



276 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

L. M. Terman, The Measurement of Intelligence. 

E. L. Thorndike, Mental and 8ocial Measurements. 

G. M. Whipple, Manual of Mental and Physical Tests. 

Yerkes and Bridges, Point Scale for Measuring Mental Ability. 



COMPARATIVE PSYCHOLOGY 

A. Forel, The Senses of Insects. 
L. T. Hobhouse, Mind in Evolution. 
S. J. Holmes, Evolution of Animal Intelligence. 
H. S. Jennings, Behavior of the Lower Organisms. 
Lloyd Morgan, Comparative Psychology. 
Instinct and Experience. 
E. L. Thorndike, Animal Intelligence. 
M. F. Washburn, The Animal Mind. 

J. B. Watson, Behavior, An Introduction to * Comparative 
Psychology. 



HISTORY OF PSYCHOLOGY 

J. M. Baldwin, History of Psychology, 2 Vols. 
B. Rand, The Classical Psychologists. 



SPECIAL TOPICS IN GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY 

Attention : 

W. B. Pillsbury, Attention. 

E. B. Titchener, Psychology of Feeling and Attention. 
Sensation : 

Ladd and Woodworth, Physiological Psychology. 

McKendrick and Snodgrass, Physiology of the Senses. 
Peeception : 

Ladd and Woodworth, Physiological Psychology, Chapters 4, 5, 6. 
Memory: 

E. Meuinann, Psychology of Learning. 
T. Ribot, Diseases of Memory. 

H. J. Watt, Economy and Training of Memory. 
Imageby: 

M. R. Fernald, Diagnosis of Mental Imagery. Has extended 
bibliography. (Psychological Review Monographs, No. 58.) 

F. Galton, Inquiries into Human Faculty. 
Reasoning : 

A. Binet, Psychology of Reasoning (Trans.). 
J. Dewey, How We Think. 
I. E. Miller, Psychology of Thinking. 
W. B. Pillsbury, Psychology of Reasoning. 
E. B. Titchener, Experimental Psychology of the Thought 
Processes. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 277 

Feeling : 

H. R. Marshall, Pain, Pleasure and Esthetics. 

H. T. Moore, Sense of Pain and Pleasure. 

H. M. Stanley, Evolutionary Psychology of Feeling. 

E. B. Titchener, Psychology of Feeling and Attention. 



K. Gordon, Esthetics. 

E. Puffer, Psychology of Beauty. 
Emotion : 

C. Darwin, Expression of Emotions in Man and Animals. 

T. Ribot, The Psychology of Emotion. 
Instinct: 

See Comparative Psychology. 
Will: 

T. Ribot, Diseases of Will. 

M. F. Washburn, Movement and Mental Imagery. 



INDEX 



Abnormal psychology, 7. 

Accommodation of lens, 80. 

Acquisitiveness, 218. 

Affection, as elementary phase 
of feeling, 195. 

After-images, 91. 

Alternating personality, 260. 

Amoeba, 19. 

Analysis, sensory and intellec- 
tual, 70j5F. 

Anger, 203, 205. 

Aphasia, 36. 

Association, simultaneous, 74 ; 
successive, 160)f. 

Association centers in cortex, 35/. 

Attention, Chapter V. 

Auditory center, 36. 

Autonomic system, 46^. 

Axis cylinder, 22. 

Axone, 22. 

BALDWIN, 223, 274. 

Blind-spot, 81/. 

Brain, structure and functions 
of and connection with con- 
sciousness, Chapter III. 

Brightness sensations, S7if. 

BRYAN, 234. 

CALKINS, 273. 

Calmness, as affective element, 
190. 

Cerebral laws and association, 
160/. 

Cerebellum, 34/. 

Cerebrum, 35ff. 

Character, Chapter XV. 

Child psychology, 7. 

Choice, see Volition. 

Cochlea, figs. 31-35. 

Color blindness, normal per- 
ipheral, 83; abnormal, 92. 



Color, complementaries, con- 
trast and mixtures, 89/.; 
theories of, 92ff. 

Comparative psychology, 8. 

Concept, nature and function of, 
173f. 

Consciousness, appearance of, 
^dff.; relation of to the nerv- 
ous system, Chapter III. 

Coordinations, establishment of 
control over, Chapters IV and 
XIV. 

Cortex, cerebral, 39^. 

Cutaneous sensations, see Sen- 
sations. 

DARWIN, 210, 277. 

Deduction, 184. 

Dendrite, fig. 4. 

DEWEY, 209, 277. 

Disagreeableness as aflfection, 
lOOff. 

Discrimination, as analytic at- 
tention, 7 Off. 

Dissociation, see Discrimina- 
tion. 

Double personality, see Alter- 
nating personality. 

Dreams, 250. 

Ear, figs. 31-35. 

Ego, see Self. 

Emotion, Chapter XII; bodily 
factors in, 370)/. 

Eustachian tube, fig. 31. 

Excitement, as affective ele- 
ment, 190. 

Experimental psychology, 6. 

Feeling, Chapter XI. 
Fovea, figs. 23, 25, 27. 
FRANKLIN, 92. 



279 



280 



INDEX 



FREUD, 250. 

Fusion, ^2ff. 

Generalization in thought, 171, 
181#. 

Genetic psychology, 7. 

Genius, and association, 165/. 

GORDON, 277. 

Grey, sensations of, see Bright- 
ness. 

Habit, Chapter IV. 
Hallucinations, 118. 
HARTER, 234. 
Hearing, sensations of, Mff. 
Hypnosis, 253^5^". 

Ideas, connection with images, 
156/y and concepts, 175)5''. 

Identity, personal, 263^. 

Illusion, lis/. 

Images, function of, 152)9'; re- 
lation to idea, 156/; to voli- 
tion, 22^-ff. 

Imagination, Chapter IX. 

Imitation, as instinctive, 218. 

Impulse, 215jf. 

Induction, 183f. 

Instinct, Chapter XIII; rela- 
tion to emotion, 204. 

Interests, nature of, 243^. 

Introspection, 3^. 

JAMES, 114, 120, 137, 204, 

205, 206, 218, 232, 273. 
Jealousy, 357. 
Judgment, 174. 

Kinaesthetic, sensation, 110/.; 
function in establishment of 
motor control, 229^. 

LANGE, 205/. 

Lapsed intelligence, theory of, 
222. 

MARSHALL, 277. 

Meaning and imagery, 159; in 

reasoning, 175/f. 
Medulla oblongata, 33. 
Memory, Chapter VIII. 



Mood, 212. 
Motor aphasia, 36. 
Motor control. Chapter IV. ^ 

Multiple personality, 260. 
Muscular sensations, see Kin- 
aesthetic. 

Nerves, structure of, 2\ff. 
Nervous system, central, 29J5''.; 

autonomic, 46jf. 
Neurone, definition of, 2\ff. 

Object, perception of, 114)/. 
Organic selection, theory of, 

223)9=. 

Pain, its relation to affection, 

190. 
Perception, Chapter VII. 
Personal identity, see Identity. 
Physiological psychology, 8. 
PILLSBURY, 219, 253. 
Pleasure, as affective element, 

190)5F. 
Productive imagination, 159/. 
Psychology, definition of, 1 ; 

methods of, 3)/.; fields of, "Iff. 
Psychophysics, 8. 

Race psychology, 7. 

Reasoning, Chapter X ; in brutes, 
185^. 

Reflex action, relation to m- 
stincts, 215^. 

Relations, in reasoning, 179)/. 

Relaxation, as affective ele- 
ment, 190. 

Reproductive imagination, 158/. 

Retention of material in mem- 
ory, 138/. 

Retina, 80^. 

RIBOT, 219, 277. 

Rhythm, U^ff. 

ROYCE, 191, 273. 

Self, Chapter XVII. 
Semicircular canals, 99^. 
Sensation, Chapter VI. ; and per- 
ception, 114. 
Sensations, of sound, 94)9'.; of 



INDEX 



281 



sight, 77if.; of smell, 104f.; 
of taste, 101^.; of tempera- 
ture and touch, lOSff.; or- 
ganic, 112/.; of movement, 
110^. 

Sentiment, 212. 

SHERRINGTON, 274. 

Similarity, association by, IGSff.; 
in reasoning, 179. 

Size, apparent of objects, 125^. 

Skin-senses, see Sensations. 

Social psychology, 7. 

Space, see Perception. 

Span, or scope, of conscious- 
ness, 61if. 

SPENCER, 221. 

Spinal oord, 28f. 

Strain, as affective element, 190. 

Subconscious, processes, 178, 26L 



Sympathetic system, 46]^. 
Synsesthesia, 167/. 

Taste, sensations, see Sensations. 
Temperament, 212. 
Temperature, see Sensations. 
Thought, see Reasoning. 
Time, perception of, 130/. 
TITCHENER, 273, 277. 
Touch, see Sensations. 
Twilight vision, 87. 

Vision, see Sensations. 
Volition, Chapters XIV, XV. 

WATSON, 208, 219. 

Will, see Volition. 

WUNDT, 190, 194, 222, 273, 

274. 



